Chapter 1

I was born Hecate St. John to a loving, but young and broken mother. She had gotten pregnant with me accidentally and when she decided to keep me, the man who impregnated her up and left. She was fifteen at the time and from what little she spoke of him, I gathered their relationship was little more than a lust-filled blur that ended quickly just as it started. She barely remembered him, but the few times she spoke of him it was of an almost fervent desire. A madness of sorts.

Before I was born, she was given an ultimatum by her own parents. Abort me or take me and find somewhere else to live. Unfortunately she chose the latter, and decided to use what little money she had from a part-time job to find a tiny rundown apartment on the outskirts of our little city called Bludhaven. A city on the west coast of the country. There we spent a majority of my single digit years growing up scrounging for every little bit of money we could get our hands on, every little opportunity. But we were happy, cold most nights and hungry every now and then but we had each other.

When I was old enough she began homeschooling me, taking me to the diner she worked as a waitress and sitting me in the booths with books she'd stolen from the library to read and work on. While she waited tables, I studied the basics; English, Maths, Sciences, of course they weren't exactly kid friendly and I was doing the work equivalent to what most middle schoolers would be starting to learn but it gave me quite a headstart. From my earliest memories I was a bit gifted comparatively to those my age. I was "speaking" when I was barely a year old, and walking around the same time. By the time I was two I could even dress myself and use the bathroom alone. But I suppose I had to grow a little early to keep up with my mother.

When I was old enough, I finally went to a real school. That was also the time I began my first job as a dishwasher in the same little diner. I liked school, it gave me a chance to meet people my own age, and for better or for worse, I worked as hard there as I did at home. I was bullied quite a bit for wearing my mom's handmedowns, long unkempt hair, or shoes too big for my feet. Or for being a teacher's pet and brown noser, being more responsible and studious than my age usually would be, they stopped after they realized I prone to biting and scratching people who bothered me enough. Mom didn't like it, but she also didn't have the energy to reprimand me. That and doing dishes for five hours after I spent eight of them at school was punishment enough at the time.

A little after I started middle school was when things began to get a little easier for my mother and I, she began a new job as a manager for that very same diner. The pay wasn't good, but with the both of us bringing in a steady income it was enough for us to afford more than just the necessities. And I have to admit it was nice to finally wear clothes that weren't a woman's. Or secondhand. Mom even started going to a public university at that time. She always dreamt of being nurse. So I had to grow again, with her working and going to school and myself doing the same, the only time we really ever had together at that point was at work. It was lonely sometimes, being stuck in that little apartment by myself sometimes but I survived, I knew what was important and I also knew she was sacrificing much more than I was at that point to keep us afloat.

She was wonderful, my mother. Beautiful and strong. And sometimes I wish I had told her that more.

When I started highschool is when I finally began to see life more vividly. It's where I met the first few people I could call friends, and where I would also meet my first true enemies.