She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, her crystal-blue gaze sweeping to and fro, nervous. Her steps moved her quickly towards the foster home, though that place wasn't any better than the streets. Since she'd turned 16 last January, her foster father had been looking at her differently. She dreaded home, and all it signified. She was an orphan, nothing. Her parents had died, in Russia. Nobody knew the circumstances.

1404 Sycamore. She was home, and the feeling had only grown more intense, so intense that she didn't notice Mary's, her foster mother, missing from the driveway. She rushed into the house, slumping against the door as she pressed it shut.

"Bayonne! Is that you?" Ray's drunken voice slurred from the den.

"It's me, Ray. I'm home from school. I'm going out tonight, so I'm gonna go get ready." She didn't wait for his reply, instead jogging up the stairs into her room to put her back pack on the bed, grab her bathrobe, makeup, and other things. She moved into the bathroom, starting the water, hoping it would heat up this time instead of staying tepid. She quickly undressed, not hearing the thudding footsteps over the rush of the showerhead, slipping in, curtain tugged shut behind her.

Ray stepped in, leather belt held in his fist. The girl walked around, with her witchy eyes, and her white hair, flaunting herself around town. And she looked at him with contempt? Well, he'd soon stop that, and he'd take what she offered to everyone else, too. The door slammed shut behind him, she pulled the curtain back, and he smiled, noting the fear in her eyes. All the better. She'd soon fear him more. He reached for the shower curtain, ripping it from the hooks that held it to the rod. The belt swung, the girl tried to shield herself from it. Over and over, he swung the belt at her, until she was bleeding. Then, he reached forward, grabbing her wrists, yanking her upwards. Those eyes, showed hatred now, causing him to curse. He pulled his hand back, letting go, blood spurting from her lip. He laughed, cold, hard, as he threw her naked, beaten form to the ground, moving to unfasten his jeans.

She let out one last scream, the whole world going white, then black. When she awoke, she was laying there, slumped against the door. Blood covered her, flesh and bone strewn all over the bathroom. Bayonne leaned over, the meager lunch she'd eaten vommited up. What had happened here? The room was covered in somebodie's body parts, left unrecognizeable, deep scratches, like a bear had been caged here were etched into the walls and ceiling. The water was still running, steaming into the empty drain. She began to whimper, stepping back in to wash the signs of the massacre from her body, maddened, wild, scared. Without thinking, she donned her robe, grabbing what was left of her allowance, her cell-phone, and darted out of the house. Another white light, then blank darkness as she raced around the corner.

My mother and father fought bravely, in Gaia's defense. something called "Gangrel" killed them. I am Uktena. I am Bayonne Melisande. I was trained until gaining the rank of Claith by Jera Tomaz, Uktena Ragabash. She has sent me on a quest to find my own. She has taught me how to use the mirror, the umbra, to do this. I will find my own pack, my own place in this life. I hope I will serve my parents proud.