"Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence"

- Simon and Garfunkle, 'The Sound of Silence'

Emily

Maybe this whole thing is a dream?

I'll wake up any minute now in my bed and feel my body cringe with a lack of caffeine. I'll go to the kitchen to refuel and Kenji will be there eating an apple while flipping through his new issue of Weapon's Monthly. Everything is good in the world and we have no worries besides some upcoming test on Soul Responses.

I close my eyes once again.

I relax.

I open my eyes again after a quickly passing moment.

Yet again, I'm unsuccessful. I'm still on this goddamn train. Everything looks the same outside the window. Instead of evergreen trees and melting snow, there's sand. Sand like the quicksand I can feel engulfing my dignity and being. The sand is welcoming me to America's wasteland and congratulating me on screwing up what kind of person I thought I was.

"Emily, are you even listening to me?" A hand shakes my shoulder. I turn my head away from the window to look at my partner and cousin, Kenji. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he frowns. "You didn't hear a single word I said."

In my defense, I don't really listen to anyone anymore.

"Sorry, I kinda drifted off," I run my hand through my hair; I need to wash it. "What were you saying?"

Kenji's brows come together and deep lines run across his forehead, "Emily you have got to let this go..."

He is not seeing the big picture.

I should really cut him some slack though. Anyone else would hate me more than I hate myself. I don't blame any of my friends for not wanting to talk to me anymore. I'm now a taboo back home, something parents and teachers will use as a cautionary tale for their kids.

They didn't even know the half of it.

"Kenji you know I can't do that." I glance down at the stained red carpet that is sticking to my boots. Obviously one too many kids have dropped their lollipops enough for this floor never to be fully clean again.

"Em, it wasn't your fault," He says, trying to console me. "At least we got the opportunity to start over."

But when you think you love someone, you're easily deceived.

This is why I, Emily Valentine, and my cousin, Kenji, took two planes and a train from Boston to Death City.

I lived in Boston all my life. I even denied numerous requests from the school known as Shibusen DWMA to transfer from Sin Technical School to attend their better school way out in Nevada because of my love for the city. I'm lucky they still held up their offer to me.

"How can I start over Kenji?" My fingernails dig into my knees. The way I start spitting the words out through my clenched teeth scares me a little. "Don't act like you understand. This isn't some broken bone that's going to heal itself. You're not a fucking moron so don't say moronic stuff like that as if it's going to go on your tombstone."

A mother is scolding her child in the booth next to us.

My blood is bubbling underneath my skin.

I could use some coffee, some alcohol, some drugs, anything.

Kenji folds his arms at his chest. "I'm sorry."

I feel worse. Kenji was only trying to help. I can tell by the way his pupils grow behind his glasses that I've struck him a bit too harshly.

"No, you're right. I'm the one who should be sorry. You were only trying to make me feel better." My tongue twists the studs in my snakebite holes, the taste of metal seeping into my mouth. "I shouldn't have jumped on you like that."

"I forgive you. Just don't get too down on yourself. We're a team and we still have a job to do." Kenji sits back up in his seat from the slouching position he had gradually fallen into.

But at what cost?

I look out the window again. I can see the outline of a giant, clustered city on the horizon. This is a fairly nice change after staring at nothing but dirt and tumble weeds for the past several hours.

"Death City is just off in the distance. Why don't we get our stuff together?" I pull myself out of my seat and start reaching for the overhead shelf to grab all of my carry-on bags. I bet Kenji's still trying to figure out why I brought so much stuff on board with me. I still don't know why either.

"Emily?"

"What?"

I turn over my shoulder, surprised to see a small smile on his face. "You're gonna be okay."

At least Kenji will always be here with me.

"I wonder where Nosferatu lives…"

"Looks more like Sleepy Hollow on LSD to me…"

This place is even spookier than any of the pictures I've seen. The streets are paved with cobblestone, much like the old colonial parts of Boston that kills your car tires if you drive over them. However, the buildings have Victorian structures and the Grim reaper plastered on almost every street corner I've seen so far. There are no signs of homeless people or Red Sox fanatics littering the streets (I actually miss them). And unlike most cities, most of the stores I've seen are apparently family owned businesses. No Walmarts, no Walgreens, no Burger Kings, no Dairy Queens. I haven't even seen a Dunkin Donuts yet. That's going to be a problem for a native New England girl.

I feel Kenji grabbing at the sleeve of my jacket. "Before you start looking for any coffee shops we should at least go to our new apartment. And don't even think of trying to lose me in a crowd of people to get yourself a latte like you did that time. Remember, we were in Seattle to execute that Soul Sucker guy?"

It's hard not get the vibe from Kenji that he feels like he's babysitting me. "That guy was a total nutcase! Would you take any guy with a vacuum cleaner on his back seriously? Not only did he believe he was a Ghostbuster, but he claimed he stole Kurt Cobain's soul. I needed to be caffeinated for that piece of work." God, whatever happened to those types of ridiculous missions?

We're about two blocks away from where our new home will be, down in the Shibusen DWMA district. After living in a chic flat in Boston for so long, the idea of living in a school sponsored apartment complex makes me want to yack. They're almost always in terrible condition with cracks in the walls, spider webs in the corners, and unidentifiable stains on the walls like Motel 8's on the highway. Also I don't think I can fit all my stuff in a puny little two bedroom, one bath apartment.

Kenji's head is turning in every possible direction, tourist style, his eyes wide as they look around. It's only been a two months since the end of Asura and most of the city is already repaired and lovely again; save for a couple of still boarded up buildings with crumbled walls and depressing tilts to their structure. Hard to believe a bunch of kids brought down a Kishin god. Even if they were Shibusen students and Lord Death's son, it's difficult to picture even the most skilled meister and weapon team coming out alive. The news literally blew up that day. Helicopters couldn't get close enough to the moving Death City. News reporters around the world loosened their neck ties and their blouses because it was just so much breaking news!

And while the rest of the world celebrated for the remainder of that week, I became the center of a conspiracy so deep not even Asura and Nixon's offspring would be controversial enough.

As for those seven "wonder kids," what I've got clinging to my back might prove too much even for them.

Kid

Nothing seems to surprise me these days.

When you're the son of Lord Death you expect to have all kinds of oddities thrown in your path. Overtime, all the strange things become trivial and expected, turning the simple pleasures of life into a luxury.

Going back to a time before the unleashing of insanity makes me feel like I have nothing to do with myself. Two months is an awful long time to wait for an average adolescent experience.

Even having the time to make a long fuss about symmetry seems strange with all the "royal treatment" I've received.

Liz obviously doesn't feel the same way about how refreshing it feels to voice my opinions. This is probably the reason why her nose is scrunched up into the cross look in her eyes, still passionately scolding me, while we make our way back to the mansion after an afternoon of shopping.

"I still can't believe you would make such a fuss in public! Why did I even allow you to come to the mall with me and Patti in the first place if it meant getting kicked out of the goddamn store?"

I can't say I'm too shocked Liz appears less than happy with me. At least Patti seems to be pleased with managing to sneak a lollipop into her pocket before we were escorted from the premises.

"That store was all out of order! Any place worth the public's business would be organized with none of those crooked displays or clothing racks randomly lying about."

I just manage to avoid being whacked over the head by one of Liz's flailing shopping bags. "You rearranged the entire store! You're lucky that the manager recognized us and let us pay for our things before kicking us out!"

My hands shove themselves into the pockets of my pants as we turn the corner onto one of the main streets. "I'm sorry Liz. I'll be sure to send a fruit basket and my deepest apologies."

I'm suddenly yanked into her face by the front of my blazer. "Oh no! Don't you dare think I'm even near finished with you! What about that tunic! Huh? What was so hideous about it that made it unable to be worth buying!"

She really should be more observant by now. From behind my back Patti is giggling. "The stitching was uneven, which you failed to notice."

"The stitching? The stitching! That tunic was handmade in France with some of the nicest Chinese silk in the world you twit!"

Liz's face is starting to turn red, so I doubt she is going to let this fiasco go anytime soon.

"Oooooh! Sis, Kid, look! New neighbors! New neighbors!" Patti's high-pitched, hyeana voice wails mercilessly in my ear, interrupting Liz's complaints, and sending her own bags whipping wildly near my head with her excitement.

Sure enough, there's a moving truck being unloaded on the next block in front of the school sponsored apartments where Maka and Soul live.

"Patti, we're not even close to home yet. They're not technically neighbors..." Liz says, letting out the breath of air she probably saving to yell at me.

Finally, this is what surprises me. Something so simple and ordinary is enough to jog my interest, and that alone is strange.

A girl, about my age or older with deep, red hair, is talking to one of the moving men. And by the way she's standing and waving her hands about, it appears to be an argument.

"Girls, did my father mention to either of you that DWMA would be receiving new students?"

Liz stops beside me, leaning forward at the hip to get a better look. "No, I don't think so."

"Her hair is so red... it's almost redder than Maka'a papa's!"

I squint to make out the finer details about this girl. She's wearing a black bomber jacket, adorned with various patches on the back and front. Underneath that is a cropped white top, exposing a stripe of pale midriff, paired with jean shorts and suspenders over black tights. Without the high heeled ankle boots I'd put her at about my height or shorter.

"God, those are some cute shoes. I could've bought a pair like those but someone had to go arrange the store to his liking and get us kicked out!"

Despite Liz's scolding directly in my ear, I'm not absorbing anything she's trying to force onto me. Every bit of my attention is donated to this strange girl whose temper is clearly growing.

As the girl grows wilder in her hand movements, to the point that it appears likely she might strangle the bloated man, a teenage boy with brown hair and thick rimmed glasses rushes over, apprehending her with a hand on each shoulder.

"Ooo, I wonder who hot stuff is over there? I hope that aint' his girlfriend." Typical for Liz to have her anger moved aside for the sake of a good looking young man.

Good question, and one that easily solved with basic soul perception.

"Unless they're supporters of incest, then no." Just one look at the souls of those two was enough to ease both of our fears. "They're cousins. The girl is the meister and the boy is the weapon. I suppose my father did rally up two new students."

Yet there's something I can't put my finger on about that girl's soul. It's one in conflict with itself, which is troubling enough, but the innards of the soul itself are hazy, like smudged glass.

As the bespectacled boy drags his wailing partner back into the building, yelling out obscenities and all different insults about the moving man's mother, Liz yanks at my shoulder.

"I wouldn't relax and let your guard down if Kid. I'm not nearly done with you!"

Like I said, it takes a lot to surprise me these days.

Emily

I wonder if I can sue a company on the basis of bullshit? No matter how you look at this little scenario, it always screams "son of a bitch" at you, especially if you're the one hauling heavy boxes up two flights of stairs in heels. Not that heels bother me, but when you're particularly unbalanced and really have no clue where your footing is, you have to fear breaking an ankle or twisting your neck while falling down a bunch of stairs.

At least those good for nothing moving men brought all the furniture up to the new apartment before splitting. Since when do movers have half days? I don't care if you've booked some cheap bar for the night, finish your goddamn job! If Kenji hadn't restrained me I would've ripped those guys a new asshole.

"Please let this be the last step, please let this be the last step, please!" My foot reaches level flooring and I let out a sigh of relief. Now, the only things standing in the way of me and a good nap in my own bed are fifty odd feet of hallway and a few less heavy boxes.

Only the view out of the corner of my eye can assure me that I'm not going to walk into a wall or something like that. But with my kind of luck I doubt I'm going to avoid falling face first and getting rained upon by Kenji's collection of graphic novels.

Thank you lord, I'm almost there. Now please, guide me these last few footsteps without inciden- "AH SHIT!"

The box of manga goes flying as my chest hits the floor, knocking the wind out of my lungs on impact. And of course, to add insult to injury right on cue, a fucking copy of Evangelion Volume Six knocks my head into next year.

"Ow… ow… dammit owwwww..." I rub the back of my head to soothe the swelling bump where a hundred pages just tried to crack open my skull. If it wasn't for all this hair I have I could have serious brain damage or be bleeding out of my ears or my skull could even ha-

"Hey, are you okay?"

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I manage to look up from the floor and into a pair of jade eyes glued to a gentle face, which is plastered onto a pig-tailed head. Since when did she get here?

The girl gives me a hand, helping me back onto my feet. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I tripped or lost my footing." I say, brushing myself off of any carpet dirt and humiliation.

"Are you a new student? These are the school apartments…"

I take a quick look at the mess I just made. Wonderful, just fucking wonderful. "Me and my partner just transferred from Boston. The moving men were too lazy to finish bringing things up to our new place so we have to finish the job."

"Oh, let me help you with this…" She drops to the ground to gather up all the graphic novels. Nice girl, certainly nicer than I expected anyone here to be.

"Thanks," I reply, getting down to my knees to start putting things back into the box. "My name's Emily Valentine by the way."

The blonde girl hands me a stack of books to put in the box. "I'm Maka Albarn, nice to meet you!"

Maka Albarn. The Maka Albarn. The Maka Albarn who defeated the keshin Asura.

The dumbstruck look on my face is somewhat of a dead giveaway I suppose. "Yeah, I'm that Maka Albarn…"

Well, what am I supposed to do? Thank you for saving humanity and letting me live out the rest of my life? Okay, cool.

"Hey Maka, what's with all the swearing?" A boy with white hair and blood colored eyes leans out of the apartment next door with knit brows and crossed arms.

"Soul, can you go down to the front yard and bring up some boxes? We have new neighbors." Maka points her thumb at me.

Who I guess is the famous Soul Eater Evans huffs and shrugs his way out the threshold of the door, "too cool for school" attitude and all. "Whatever..." He stops as he passes me by, leaning down to put his hand out in front of my face. "Names' Soul Eater Evans, Soul's cool."

"Emily Valentine." I reach out my hand for a shake, simultaneously tossing a few issues of some mecha manga I have yet to flip through back into the box.

"Emily, please tell me you didn't destroy my issues of Akira! Those were special limited editions that cost me a fortune on eBay!"

Oh, nice of you to show up Kenji! Sure as hell took you a long ass time to bring a small box of my DVDs upstairs. Did a girl give you her number? "Aren't you a nice cousin, making your first impression on our new neighbors by calling me out?" Typical fucking Kenji. "This is Maka Albarn and Soul Eater Evans, they go to Shibusen DWMA." I manage to pull out my best shit-eating grin.

But faster than you can say "sweet American Apparel hoodie hipster" Kenji's shoving a box of his shit in my arms to go shake hands with our famous new neighbors. Too bad he forgot to bring his autograph book. What a suck-up.

Well I guess I'm the one in charge of bringing this box of crap into our new apartment. For a school sponsored living space, it's nicer than I expected, thank God. Everything is furnished, and as far as I can tell, clean. Though it's nothing compared to our old Boston flat, it has multiple rooms and wi-fi which is enough to satisfy.

After dropping Kenji's box of manga by his door, I wander into my own room. Except for a bed, a dresser, and a desk, the room is really nothing but boxes. I've literally moved every material aspect of my entire life across the country.

I lie down on the mattress, my muscles aching from multiple trips up multiple flights of stairs for the past hour. It doesn't help I haven't exactly been physical for a month either.

Speaking of that, I can finally be myself again, or at least what's left of me. Nobody is fussing over my mental health anymore. Nobody is asking me invasive psychological questions. Nobody is whispering to each other while I'm present. And the voice is quite. Thank God the voice is quite. As much as I refused being prescribed anti-depressants, they're doing their job. Medicine may not be able to cure my current cynical outlook on everything, but at least I can try to live normally now.

But normal will never be average. If there's one sad thing this entire mess has taught me it's that I'm capable of the evil those I strive to defeat make use of. It makes me sick to my stomach. All I see myself as is a liability to everyone. What others see as "paranoia" I see as a "reality check".

The mind and the soul are a fragile couple. When one is sick, the other is too. After all, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves for a reason. They can't live without each other. For that entire month I was asked, "What do you want?" and though the question seems broad enough to answer, I'm still not sure how to respond to it anymore.

I wanted protect the innocent, the good, the loved.

And out of that want I allowed myself to be led down the wrong path. I was a hero who fell from grace and into garbage. That's right, garbage.

They're still out there and I know it. They're biding their time. He's never going to stop until he gets what he wants. I was so sure that he wanted me. What he wanted was my services, not my heart. How could I have been so childish and naïve?

I roll over to the edge of the mattress and start digging into one of the opened boxes for any useless crap I can busy myself with. I should stop thinking, because thinking reminds me that I still live in this ruined reality. There's a theory out there about multiple paradox universes, where things can be more or less the same with a few changes or complete balls to the walls insanity. I bet there's a world out there where I kicked ass so well that I didn't even have to wash any of the blood out of my hair. Maybe there's another world where I'm already lying in some upholstered specially made coffin with kids peeing on my grave marker. I hope there's a world where I'm everything everyone wanted me to be.

Sadly, that's not this world.

Author's Notes:

I am having post episode 10 American Horror Story depression so I think it's a good time for me to put this baby out there.

This is going to be a bunch of chapters, and I've been working out the kinks for this story since my sophomore year.

I'm pretty proud of how I see this going. I mean, original characters are always tricky to deal with, since there's the whole 'Sue' thing you need to avoid. I think the way to avoid developing a Sue is by making the character as real as possible. If Ariel and Lisbeth Salander decided to bear children together you'd get Emily Valentine.

Here's the playlist for this chapter:

The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkle

The Times They Are A'Changin' by Bob Dylan

Sour Cherry by The Kills

Bull In the Heather by Sonic Youth

Kid is fun to write, especially in first person because I can imagine with his OCD that his stream of consciousness would be pretty hectic.

Review and favorite! Tell me what you guys think!

- Nicole