Author`s note: Hello everyone! Yup, I finally dared! *G*


I wish you a lot of fun with the slightly different FF about my beloved veggie ...




Author`s note2: Well, in Word with all the possibilities, the part looks a bit more. Mainly because I like to make use of these possibilities and let the typeface flow into the story ... but on the whole it doesn't really matter ...




Feedback: Well ... you have the opportunity to comment here. and I hope you use them too * begging + pleading *. But you can also write to me.


So: death threats, praise and marriage proposals from cute, pretty young billionaires, or optionally from a certain Saiyajin * languishing * to Nessaiya@gmx.de. You can also get the original version there (i.e. the Word stuff that I like so much better).




But now enough talked about ... let's go






"Call me death.Call me hate Call me envy ... resentment ... jealousy ... enmity ... call me Odium ... antipathy. Whatever name I have: you know it, you live it. All! You are mine! Call me Leviathan! "




prolog




The little girl ran through the streets without looking back. The deep cuts on her arms and legs ached and bled, so that her sweater and also her torn pants glistened wet again and again in the light of the street lamps. All she wanted was out of here. Away from this place where she was hurt.


She didn't even know what she had done this time that the director of the orphanage had so turned against her. Sure, she really wasn't the bravest, showed a lack of respect for the adults and was probably quite difficult to convey.


She had never liked this woman, however. She hated a four-year-old child as profoundly as not many adults could of others.

The little one had always endured her insults, beatings and threats without a word. And didn't cry a single tear in the process.


This time it had only made the manager even angrier. She had grabbed the child and flung it through the glass door of her office.


She had cut them into the skin with broken pieces when the girl was not crying even now. She said she would finally break her pride. She should have been wrong ...


The girl looked at her with her wild, black eyes, the always untidy hair seemed as if moved by an imperceptible wind. Then the woman felt a sharp pain in her side. Stunned, and unable to break away from the spellbinding gaze of the little one, she took hold of the painful area and found that the child had rammed one of the broken glass into her side.


She was still looking into the eyes of the little one, who slowly got up and scowled at her ... a look that made the orphanage director's blood run cold.

"I never cry!" said the girl in a voice so calm and at the same time so threatening that the woman involuntarily moved away from her. Then the little one turned around and left the room on shaky legs.


So now she was running through the streets ... with no destination. There was only one thing she knew: she would rather die than return to this house again.


Over time, she no longer knew where she was, although she had always felt more at home in the streets of the city than in the orphanage. The night, lit only by the occasional lantern, frightened her, she was tired and she was cold. Every step hurt. Finally, with a last-ditch effort, she climbed onto a park bench under a street lamp and crouched down. Her otherwise watchful eyes closed more and more often until she finally fell asleep with her arms wrapped around her knees.


A gentle shaking and a low voice woke her up again. Slowly she opened her eyes and the first thing she noticed was that it was still night.

"She's awake !! Thank god!" was the next thing she heard. It was a man's voice which the girl found extremely pleasant.


In front of her stood a young, rather tall man with dark hair. Beside him, a young woman with blond hair made a worried expression. They seemed quite nice, but the girl had already had all sorts of experiences with 'nice' people in her short life. As a precaution, she backed away and prepared to flee if necessary.


Now the young woman also took a step towards her.


"Who did this to you, you poor child? You don't need to be afraid of us ... we won't hurt you," she said in a warm voice. Then she held out her hand, which the girl took after some hesitation. The young woman knelt in front of her and began examining the injuries.


"It all has to be sewn!" she finally exclaimed in horror.She straightened up again and turned to her companion.


"We have to take her to the hospital! Who does this to a defenseless child?"


Both looked astonished at the park bench when they received a quiet answer.


"Miss Benson! I rammed a piece of glass into her side as revenge for doing this to me." As if to confirm, the little one raised both arms, which were covered in a completely blood-encrusted sweater, and wiggled her injured leg.


The two looked at each other briefly, then the man leaned down to her.


"May I kid you? We have to go to the hospital. The cuts are pretty deep." He didn't know why he was telling her the truth. You normally don't tell a child how badly injured they were and that they needed to be hospitalized. The little one, however, made such an adult impression. He thought bitterly that the little one had been cheated of part of her childhood. He knew the orphanage and the methods that were used.

The girl had meanwhile put her arms around his neck. To be honest, he hadn't expected that. You must have made a good impression on the child after all. Again he looked at his fiancée. He could read the same feelings he had on her face: disgust for the person who had done this to the little one, and: Like him, at first glance she had found herself in the little girl with the wildly protruding hair, the dingy one Little face and the so serious look in love.


While she snuggled into his arms, the girl looked at him searchingly. Somehow he was uncomfortable with that piercing look, so he decided to say something to distract her.


"You are really brave. It must really hurt, and you haven't cried a single time so far."


"I never cry!" was the only thing the little one answered as she continued to study him with her pitch-black eyes


"Tell me, have we already introduced ourselves?" asked the young woman suddenly into the silence.Her fiancé just shook his head.


“How could we forget that!” Excited, she pushed herself in front of her friend.


"I'm Barbara and this is my fiancé, David. And what's your name?"


The little girl laughed a little because the woman was so upset. She hadn't even noticed that she'd gone with complete strangers here, even though it was strictly forbidden. She was just glad to have met REALLY nice people once.


"My name is Zoe ..."