For The God Whom I Hate So Much (D.Gray-Man)

Chapter One: Shoes Are Your Friends...

- Chapter One: Shoes Are Your Friends... -

Glass and smashed wood smoothed over the ground and mixed with the dirt she had the misfortune of running over was what caused her so much pain after the adrenaline in her body subsided. It was hinged in her skin and sank into her muscles. At the sight of blood, the six year old little girl lying against a destroyed home began crying, though saving the loudness of it when she closed her hands over her mouth. She never thought she'd get over her resentment of shoes until now.

She should've listened to mother.

"Lenalee! Lenalee!" A familiar voice called for her miraculously the tenth time, bringing her more grief. Prying her eyes open despite the tears stinging them, she began promptly searching for the familiar. She drew her knees up and tried to put weight on her mangled feet until the fiery sensation of the glass weighing into her struck and caused her to collapse back down.

As the tears silently fell onto the ground beneath her, she grasped onto her swollen shins and grimaced. Muttering, "ow, ouch," repeatedly, feeling the blood ooze out as more of her body swelled turning her practically incapable of running anymore. As a matter of fact, her whole body was aching and bruised and battered due to the attack.

A piece of wood had landed on top of her fragile head large enough to knock her out cold and left her to awake to red. Scary looking flames were getting ready to devour her and left her skin pained and disfigured.

She cried then, loudly, ignorant to what terrors were hiding behind the fire then.

Abruptly, her cry was heard and a large man whisked her away off her bare feet and from the flames to a cool and damp place where other dark figures were. The moonlight shone on them giving their outfits color and Lenalee found that their appearances weren't as terrifying as it seemed in addition to the whole ordeal. They smiled sincerely at her, quickly rummaging through their bags for something.

The man cloaked in black, white and what seemed like a spiky blob of sliver on his left breast then sprinted away from the scene, leaving her with the men dressed in light brown.

"You're terribly hurt, young one. Please, let me help you," one spoke gently to her then, the hint of femininity in his tone and touch helping her feel more at ease. Wrapping the bandages around her as delicately a man of his build could, she could've blinked away the tears in her eyes until she heard the cry of the man whom was calling for her yet again. Instead, her tears fell.

Swiftly and naively, Lenalee was out of the older man's arms and running into the forest, heading back to the village engulfed in flames.

Thus, that was how she ended up crunched up in a upright fetal position against the remains of a wall of a house whimpering softly to herself and letting her tears sting the burns of her face. The bandages then wrapped around her limbs and exposed skin was burnt off. Dark ashes smeared all over her legs, arms, cheeks, and neck. Her almost ear length raven hair possibly looking natural by now. Well, if it weren't for the ulcers covering parts of her scalp. The ulcers producing the consistent twinges of pain she felt, which was unattended to at the moment with the usual excessive pats of her head because of her distractedness, not known to her that the smoke emitting from it had finally calmed down. Aches of her chest due to her heart pounding so restlessly against her ribcage was what distracted her from her sizzling head instead. Her face red and hot; surely she was going to pass out from all the stress a person, a child shouldn't have to go through. In between sobs, she breathed in quick and exhaled hard. Yes, she surely was going to pass out. Despite that, she was going to be okay with it. Just to escape the nightmarish reality she currently was in.

The shrill screams of terror caused by the monsters she endured and outran to nowhere rung throughout her sensitive young ears making her want to tune it all out, but couldn't. Petrifying the child further.