Haunted Wood I Have That Fever!

Stepped on, chewed on, ignored and tossed when she was in the way of her mother - within the darkness of her lids, the deafness of closed ears, the hatred grew for this world. How could this happen? Why? What did she do to deserve this? Wasn't she a good girl, wasn't she? Flickering in her was the only warmth she felt in this cold world than the faint warmth her siblings shared as they huddled - that flicker was a small flame. A flame of loathing, pumping through her veins like a poison. Boiling her blood with each passing day.

Vengeance. Without knowing the brute who catalysed her creation, even in death he haunted her. Inflicting his wrath uppon his children and every sin he harboured. To Conquest, she would be gifted his rage. His hatred.