The world can be cruel to so many people. Unfortunately for me, I am one of them. When it rains, people often say it's a way for the things that contaminate the world to be washed away. I beg to differ. My life hasn’t always been like this, at least I don’t think. I suppose at one point I was happy.

Loved.

But now my life is what it is. When I remember the way people treated me – that kind of dirt can never be washed away, no matter how loud the stormy sky yells at me. Yes, I can be a cold–hearted bitch, but I have every reason to be. For twenty–one long years, no one has suffered as much heartbreak as I have.

I think back to when I was five. I don't know what happened. As I woke up in a forest, the area around me was burned to ash. The only spot that remained untouched by the flames was the grass around my body. I looked around this unfamiliar place and wondered why I was here. There must have been an accident, which meant people would come looking for me.

So I waited.

Then waited some more.

As the day neared its end, the moon rose into the sky.

Still, I waited.

No one came.

The hair of a wild animal's fur tickled my nose and I awoke, startled. Somehow, it secured me within its body, nestling me as I slept deeply. I saw it snoozing gracefully, its head resting on its front paws and its hind legs secured under its sturdy body; its flowing tail lay calm. I was a smart child, and I knew not to wake the creature, so I did my best to be quiet as I tried to move away. Beneath my foot a twig snapped and the animal’s ear twitched. Picking up its head, it listened for more. She stood straight up, as though on alert, her silvery tail swishing behind her.

Finally, it turned towards me, and I was caught in its blue–eyed gaze.

Those eyes.

They were beautiful.

They vaguely reminded me of someone.

My mother perhaps.

I guess you could say, at that moment I realized this amazing creature wasn't a threat to me at all. It yawned, licking its lips. Its silver fur and strong stance was something to behold, as though it meant to protect me.

The animal moved closer to me, getting a whiff of my scent as it sniffed me. Then it extended its tongue and began to lick my face. I laughed and hugged the creature and I knew that everything was okay. I was found, and I was happy.

I named her Stella and she took care of me.

She fed me when I was hungry.

Kept me warm when I was cold.

Protected me when I was asleep.

I felt as though I was home.

I didn’t concern myself with where I came from. All that mattered to me was the here and now. Stella meant more to me than anything and I knew she felt the same way about me.

I lost track of the days as Stella and I lived in those woods and I remember it like it was yesterday. The full moon hung in the sky, and I awoke. I was uneasy. Stella was cuddled next to me as she always did, fast asleep. Through the tall trees, I saw the flickering of something, a light perhaps. I arose and like any other curious child, I walked towards it. I heard distant voices as I came closer. Through the brush, I saw a man and a woman with two children, sitting around a campfire. I remained hidden.

A loving family. Something tugged at me from the deepest pit of my stomach. Did I ever have one of those? I could not remember. It had been so long since I even thought about it. It was foolish to try and persuade myself that I wanted that because Stella was all that I needed, but it was hard to look away, and the longer I observed the emptier I got.

Who was I?

Why was I left out here?

Why was it that no one wanted me?

I couldn’t take it anymore. The feelings of loneliness, of being unwanted and unloved, it was enough to make my eyes swell. The numbness made me want to leave, and that’s what I did. I turned to go back to Stella and the rustling noise I made was enough to get their attention.

“Who's there?” Shouted the father. “Come out now!” He commanded, his voice betraying an undertone of fear.

Did I have a choice?

Was I to obey?

It was hard to tell, but in an instant a thought occurred to me.

Could this be the family I so desperately longed for?

Would they love me like they did their own children?

What about Stella? I couldn’t leave her here.

Or could I?

My raggedy show emerged from the brush. My uncombed hair, the dirt on my face and my torn clothes brought compassion to his eyes.

“Well, I'll be,” said the man, “it's just a little girl.”

“What's she doing out here, Dad?” asked the young girl, who looked to be about my age.

“It looks like she's lost,” said the mother, with the same level of worry in her voice as her husband. “Who would leave a child out here?”

“Come on, now,” said the man, holding out his hand. “Let's get you all cleaned up.” I didn't speak one word to these people. I didn’t know what to say. Could I even talk anymore?

“It looks like she's been out here for months,” said the mother, looking at me from across the way. The fire crackling.

I looked at the man's hand, and then back up to his face. The intent to take it was tempting.

No, I couldn’t.

This was a mistake.

I started to back up slowly. He began approaching me like I was a wild animal, afraid of scaring me away, and who could blame him with the way I looked. He must’ve thought I was feral. I wanted to scream for Stella. I wanted her here to take me back into the forest.

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“Come on, now,” he said, now only feet away from me. “We'll get ‘cha all cleaned up. We'll take care of ya until we find ya parents.”

Did he mean that?

Did I even have parents to return to?

There was a loud rustling in the bushes behind me. I turned my head and out leaped Stella. She occupied the space between the family and me. I stood behind her, scared for both the people and my friend. Stella let a long, low growl escape her mouth, and her hackles were raised. Her head dipped down, looking up at the misunderstood folk with bared teeth.

The people were frightened. The mother grabbed her two children while the man retreated into the big RV they had parked up next to their campsite. He rushed out of the vehicle, an object with a long, extended barrel held up in his hands, pointed at Stella.

“Get away from her. GET!” He shouted, holding the weapon with shaky hands.

I was confused as I stood there behind Stella. She was trying to protect me, but these people saw her as a threat to everyone, including me. They didn't understand the connection between Stella and I.

“Shoot it!” Yelled the mother, holding her two kids.

“Get out of here! Shoo!” He shouted, making pointing gestures with his gun and banging on the side of the RV with his free hand. I could see he did not want to harm Stella. He just wanted her to go away, but Stella understood his intent. The aggressiveness, the long barreled weapon. It was enough for her to growl even deeper.

She didn't move at all. Her eyes were fixed on the man and his weapon.

“I'll shoot! I swear I will.” The commitment in his voice was apparent.

Stella didn't comply. She placed one paw in front of the other and charged towards the man she perceived as a threat, not only to her, but to me as well.

“Stella, no! Don't!” I finally pleaded, watching her leave me behind.

She pounced.

I closed my eyes and turned away, unable to watch.

A loud pop crack followed by a muffled thump filled the air

Tears began to gather in the corner of my eyes. I knew what had happened; I just didn't want to accept it. I looked at the man and saw the smoking gun in his hands.

At his foot was Stella’s body, blood gushing from the bullet wound, glistening in the fading light from the campfire.

“Stella! No!” I cried, rushing over to her.

Before I could place my hands on her, I was lifted off my feet by the man. I kicked and screamed, but before I knew it, I was in the motor home. I glued my face to the window and watched Stella's body, hoping she would get up, but she didn't move, nor did she flinch. As they took me away, I watched her body disappear into the trees. I cried for her, knowing I would never see her again.

Years passed since that night. By the time I was twelve, I was placed in a foster home. Shortly after, I was taken away and put back into a shelter. This repeated mercilessly. Each family who accepted me ended up putting me back like I was some toy. Some of the friends I made never returned to the shelter, and, just like that, I was alone all over again. First, I lost Stella, and now I had no one.

As I grew older, the cycle only got worse. I was given to nine families within the course of my teenage years, the next more despicable than the last. There wasn't a day or night that went by that I didn’t want Stella to be with me. She had been my only true friend.

It must have been my seventeenth birthday. Like all my other birthdays, this one was just as empty. So I decided to give myself the gift that would change my life forever.

I ran away.

Away from all the horrors and evils I had to face. I roamed the streets and found myself trying to survive, stealing what I needed to get through the night; clothes, money, food. I was forced to eat from the garbage when I couldn't get a decent meal from time to time.

Over the course of the next five years, my heart became cold and bitter. Even when the world tried to wash me away, I pushed on. I became resentful and angrier at the world. I wanted this place to see what I had done to me. To understand my hatred for it. I had forgotten the concept of compassion and weakness. Most of all, I had forgotten the idea of love. I didn’t know what it was, nor did I know what it meant I had wandered into a graveyard. The people there and I had a lot in common. Although they had died in peace, they were forgotten. Not forgotten by their loved ones, but forgotten by the world. Now those who had fallen before me were a part of the earth; a part of this despicable world that constantly tries to wash me away. I roamed with the dead because deep down, I was dead along with them.

I looked at the top of the hill and I saw something that made me feel different. Almost as though a glimmer of life was just awakened again, but I didn’t want it.

Still, I needed to know for myself why this sight made me feel this way.

So I went to it. As I got closer, I saw a golden angel statue weeping over a grave. I began to shed tears because I felt the angel's pain for the poor soul who was buried here. I looked at the headstone, wanting to see who was lucky enough to deserve such an honor.

I saw a name. A name that was different, yet familiar to me at the same time. I stared at it and visions of happier times invaded my dark mind. I had once known this person. It was a girl, I was sure, but her fate came to her when she was but a mere child. No wonder she had the tears of an angel falling over her. My head was clouded; my judgment was shaded. I dropped to my knees and sobbed for the poor girl for she was, without a doubt, departed from this world.

I found myself sitting in an alleyway with my back against a dumpster, staring up into the twilight. As I looked up, it was at that moment the emptiness I held was beginning to change. I couldn’t explain what I was seeing or if it was real. All I knew was that I wanted it to see me.

“Take me too!” I shouted to the skies above. “Take me to Heaven with you!”

It was another angel. Not a statue, but an actual angel dressed in white and gold armor with his wings spread out over the skies as he soared above. I stood up and saw him, his face concealed behind a polished helmet that carried a symbol I couldn’t make out. In his grasp was a poor soul resting peacefully. His arms flung over and his head dripping with blood. I wanted nothing but to leave this world. I wanted that angel to drop that body and take me instead.

As I looked closer, I saw another boy on the angel’s back. His curly brown hair ruffled in the wind. I could almost make out his green eyes and optimistic smile. I couldn't understand why this boy had the privilege of riding on the back of an angel. I watched them disappear into the night, leaving me. Just as everyone else in my life had left me.

“Please take me,” I whispered with overwhelming sadness. I shrunk back down as my plea was ignored.

“Why go to Heaven when you can create Hell on Earth?” Said an unearthly voice. I thought I was going crazy. I knew I was alone, but just to make sure I looked around hoping to see someone there.

“My child,” said the sinister voice, “You have seen so much agony and despair. What these people have done to you – you didn’t deserve it.” From the beginning, I knew this voice was pure evil, preying on me because of what I'd been through.

I saw a purple mist beginning to surround me. “Who are you?” I asked.

“Do you wish the world to suffer just as you did?” It asked gently.

I could feel the spite in the disembodied voice. Was I capable of such a thing? I hesitated before I could answer. I suffered for nothing. It was as though my life was a cruel joke. Why should anyone get to enjoy their lives while I was left in despair? Then a darkness came over me. It was as though the voice was willing me to say yes.

“More than anything,” I replied. The ambition of finally being able to express my hatred was rising. The mist was making me feel dizzy.

“Then open your heart full of hatred to me,” it replied.

“Yes!” I said. “That is all I want. Let me taste it.”

“Very well.”

The purple mist attached itself to my skin and entered my body any way it could, invigorating me with its power.

I was no longer empty.

I could feel all my hatred, all of my anger, rising with excruciating pain. I was losing control, and I could feel myself beginning to slip away.

“Was this a good idea?” I thought.

“Yes,” the voice hissed. “I am an excellent idea.”

I wasn't me anymore, but that didn't matter. I hadn't been me for sixteen years.