DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ONE PIECE

This story will focus on the life of Panther D. Mara from her time leaving her home in the Grand Line until she meets the famous ASL brothers and more. I figured that you guys would want some insight.

And yes, I am aware that there may be some continuity issues with Her Twisted Tale, but the things addressed in this fic will be the correct. (and if you don't notice them, then completely disregard this)

Chapter One

Scarlet Island had never been nothing special to me. Even as a child, I couldn't help but see it as a dull, boring island on the Grand Line, the only interesting thing on the whole island being the large glass Temple that sat in the center. It was a beautiful structure that, truthfully, even the most uncultured, uncouth vagabond could appreciate. Especially on those summer mornings, when the sun came up just the right way over the backdrop that was a large mountain range, sparkling off the crystal clear glass in a way that cast small rainbows over the streets and houses. There was nothing I had liked more as a child than going to the Temple just before sunrise with my mom, sitting on a bench and watching the sun come up, a hot chocolate in my hand while she drank her coffee. And then we would rush back to the house before dad woke up, trying to keep our morning routine a secret so no one would crash our alone time together, and I would only return shortly after in order to continue my studies with the Priests inside the Temple, admiring the beauty of the inside.

In all honesty, those were my only fond memories of Scarlet. There was nothing that could compare to spending those chilly mornings by my mom's side, draped in a comfortable silence and knowing that she would be there with me forever. Because that was how a child such as myself though. My mom would never leave me. She would be there through my entire life and, in some kind of fantasy world, we would just live side by side forever. No death. No despair. No pain.

But oh, I was wrong. Every thought that I had of the notion of forever was quickly thrown under a very thick rug when Kaeli, my one and only sister, destroyed so much in such a short amount of time; my faith, my family, and my relationship with my best and truest friend. Mom, dad, Kai, and Yuvi were dead. There was no other way to say it. They were gone, and I should have been gone as well, but my aforementioned best and truest friend, Margie, didn't let that happen. She had saved me, at the cost of her hand and her eyesight. And Kaeli was locked up in the prison hidden in a dark corner of the island that I had never visited until she had went there. It only took a time period of fifteen minutes to destroy all the hopes and dreams that I had in anything, and it made me a very different person.

I was understandably darker after the events of that day. I would no longer go towards lakes, as they brought too much memories of seeing the water logged bodies of my father and brother. I didn't take food from just anyone, most of the time preferring to make my own, as it brought memories of my poisoned mother. Knives terrified me to the point that I would stand petrified at the sight of one, because they reminded me of my other brother who had been sliced down the middle until his left and right side...separated. And there was fire, which moved me to tears for reasons that didn't have to do with my own experience of being lit on fire, but for the pain that it brought Margie when she doused the flames for me.

My world had been turned upside down, and I had only been seven. My mornings had started to consist of avoiding the hospital at all costs and sitting before the Temple on that very bench that my mom and I had sat on not too long ago, staring blankly at the building as the sun glittered off of it's walls. I became reluctant in continuing my studying with the Priests, not because I didn't want to. It would have been a great way to keep my mind off of the fact that I was truly alone now. No, it was because after Kaeli did what she did, the Priests seemed to think that I was just as volatile as she. Cursed, was what they called me, and they tried to rid me of that curse in ways that weren't comfortable at all. I was subject to a handful of exorcisms until they realized it wasn't working. Then the prayer circles started, which involved placing me in the middle of the shrine on the other side of the island for all to see while they chanted in an ancient and dead tongue around me. That was how the other people on the island came to see that I was believed to be cursed, and it only caused more problems.

The fact that I continually told everyone that I wasn't cursed at all was completely ignored for the 'safety of the villagers'. So I stopped going to the Temple willingly. My studies ended and I found myself either sitting in my destroyed home or sitting on the bench before the Temple. Or, one some occasions, I brought myself down to the Lion's Tavern and enjoying the company of the drunkards and owner.

And almost exactly one year after everything went to shit, I found myself sitting at the bar in the Tavern, nursing a cup of warm milk to help me sleep later as the men and women started to come in the building, ordering drinks and greeting me. It made me feel slightly better that, with everyone thinking that I was some cursed being, these people still accepted me as a person. There was no fear. And it was probably because they pitied me for being all alone now, but I didn't mind. I would take what I could get.

"Well good evening, little Kitten!" A large hand engulfed the top of my head, ruffling my hair, sending the brown locks that already were a mess atop my head into an even bigger mess, making the knots larger with the movement. I ducked away and slapped at the hand, turning back to my milk and placing both hands over the glass. I didn't need to turn to see who it was, and it didn't take him long to move into the stool beside me and order a beer before turning to me once more. "Haven't see you in a few days! I was wondering if you had gotten sick."

I turned to him and frowned. It was Loo, a renowned baker on the island, despite his gruff appearance. Black hair, bright green eyes, and a large toothy grin. He was like an Uncle to every child on the island, and I was eternally grateful that he hadn't abandoned me after everything that happened. "I'm not sick." My voice was barely audible over the roar of the now-busy Tavern, but he had been listening for it and heard easily when he leaned his head closer.

"Well that's good! Don't worry me like that, Kitten!" I drank from my milk to his my small smile at the nickname that he had given me years ago, drawing the connected between Panther and Kitten in some odd way that I didn't understand, but enjoyed. "I was gonna tell Josie that we needed to go check on ya!"

At the sound of her name, Josie moved down the bar and handed him a beer right after smacking him on the head. "Don't talk about me when I ain't near ya." Loo grumbled and rubbed the bump. Josie turned to me and flashed a grin. "My favorite customer! I was about to go kick down your door and make sure you weren't..." He voice died down towards the end, but she didn't need to say it. It was obvious what the ending of that statement was.

Dead.

I repeated that I was fine after a moment of awkward silence, and it seemed to make the world move again Josie tended to her customers, Loo talked to me and whoever else came over to sit by him, and the dull roar of the Tavern calmed my nerves. Nerves that shouldn't have to be calmed on an eight year old because that wasn't right.

The night was like every other night that I came here. Talking and games and drinking and singing. I sat at the bar while everyone line dance in the center of the room, sipping my new cup of milk and watching them enjoy themselves. Josie turned and waved me over, grinning wildly and close to tears from her laughter, but I shook my head, pointing to my bandages.

Covering the majority of my visible body, bandages wrapped around me and concealed my skin. Wearing my dress, they peaked out from under it, spanning my arms, shoulders, chest, neck, and legs. There were even some on my stomach, only to hold them on better, not because there were any wounds there. In reality, there weren't wounds anywhere on my body anymore. After a year, they all healed. The burns scarring over and blotching my skin. But I didn't say that they were healed. I didn't tell anyone. Simply because they had all assumed that I continued to go to the hospital for check ups and to get them changed, but I hadn't. I changed my own bandages at home to keep the story that I was still injured only so that I didn't have to pretend to be happy with everyone. If I was healed, I would be forced to dance. I would be forced to run and play. I would be taken fishing and moved back to the Temple. So I was still 'hurt'. And I would be hurt for as long as I could without drawing attention to myself.

Fiddling with the bandage covering my hand, I jumped when the door swung open and slammed into the wall. The music and singing stopped. Everyone turned their gaze to the doorway where a group of people were standing. Three men. One wearing all white, one with weird blond hair, and another dressed in a kimono looked very much like a women. If it hadn't been for his manly chest, I would have assumed he was a lady.

The man in white looked around and brought his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it with an embarrassed smile. "Uh, sorry about that. It opened better than I thought it would." He looked around the room at everyone still clinging to one another's shoulders and looked less embarrassed. "You guys havin' a party? Sweet!"

I turned back to the bar and rested my chin on the counter, fingertips idly drawing nonsensical patterns on the wood. I could hear Josie behind me welcoming the men and ushering them inside and away from the rain. I sneered. I hated the rain.

"Ah, so you're pirates then." I looked quickly to the three men and studied them a moment. They didn't look like pirates. The man in white looked like an aristocrat, the kimono-wearing man looked like a Geisha, and the blond looked like a pineapple. If they could be pirates, anyone could. They didn't look dangerous at all! Josie was smiling and talking to them, seeming to know who they were and what crew they were from, but I couldn't hear very well. A yawn took over and I decided it was time to head home. I crawled down from my stool and started away from the bar, but a hand gripped my dress strap. I stopped and looked behind me to Josie who was the one who had grabbed me, leaning over the bar until her feet were up in the air. "You better come back tomorrow night, ya hear?"

I shrugged out of her grasp and gave a short nod. She let me leave without another word, but I could hear the curious trio of pirates asking about me and my bandages. No doubt Josie was telling them what happened and how 'the poor thing was still coping with her loss'. It was the words she used when people said anything about my depressed mood. I was still coping. And I was coping.

But probably not in the way that she would approve of.

The trek to my house was short. I walked the street farthest from the Temple, went down an alley to avoid the hospital, and ended up on my street in less than ten minutes. Walking up the front steps, I shoved the door open and moved through to the living room. The noises I made scared away the crows and other various birds that made their home on my kitchen counter, coming and leaving through the busted out window that had been boarded over once, but was open once again thanks to a storm that tore the boards clean off. I stalked into the kitchen and stepped over the silverware as best as I could, occasionally miscalculating and pressing my foot onto a fork or knife. I sat in the midste of the silverware, broken plates, and knocked over furniture and grabbed a pair of scissors from where they laid on the floor.

With the scissors, I cut off the bandages on my arms and tossed them aside. Crawling over to a cupboard on my hands and knees, I grabbed more bandages from where I kept them after having stolen them from the hospital. Placing the roll of bandages on the floor beside my knee, I continued to strip my bandages, revealing skin that had been healed completely in the past year. My arms were fine. My hands were fine. My legs and feet were never burnt enough to be scarred. My shoulders, surprisingly, came out okay. The only problem was my neck. The back of my neck. I could feel the bumping scars that laid there, the molten flesh that still held the horrible smell of burning flesh. It was the part of me that I didn't want anyone to see. That scar was the reason I didn't go back to the hospital. I didn't want anyone to see. I didn't want them to see the reminder that my family was torn apart and dead.

Gone of any bandages, I held my hands out in front of me and looked at my fingers. I remembered when she was alive, my mom would place her hands against mine and point out how her fingers could 'eat mine'. And I would laugh when she curled her fingers forward over mine. Playful giggles, even as she said that one day, her hands would be smaller than mine. I never understood that, how her hands would be smaller than mine. But after the funeral, I got it. She was saying that one day, I would grow up, and she would grow old, and my fingers would be able to eat hers. The thoughts brought tears to my eyes, but I held them back. I wasn't a baby any more. I didn't need to cry every time I was reminded of my mom or dad or Kai or Yuvi or how happy we all were. There was no need for it.

With a sniff, I grabbed up the roll of bandages and started to wrap my legs. Starting from my foot, I wrapped all around and went up my calf and ended mid-thigh. The process was done twice. I moved to start my arms, cutting off enough bandage for one arm when I stopped. My eyes remained on the scissors in my hand and my mind went blank. The only thing I could see was the metal shining in the light. And I had that thought. What would it feel like? What would it feel like to just press it to my skin and slice? Would it feel good, like people said? Would I regret it if I did? It's not like I didn't have bandages to fix it up afterwards, so really, what harm was there in trying? And no one came around the house anyway, so I wouldn't be caught. Unless Josie or Loo were coming by, but they usually didn't at night. They were busy at the Tavern.

Nevertheless, I looked over my shoulder and took a deep breath. No witnesses but those birds that came back to sit in their nests, watching me with beady eyes. I turned back and pressed the blade of the scissors to my wrist. It cut through the first few layers, not yet drawing blood, and I cringed with a hiss. It hurt. My heart pounded and the blood rushed in my ears. Why did it hurt? Shouldn't I started feeling relief? Maybe if I cut deeper...

Just as I pressed the blade harder to my wrist, there was a loud bang from outside my window. My heart nearly jumped from my chest as I shrieked out, whirling to look to the window with evident fear. I could see nothing, but knew that I wasn't imagining it as the birds had all flew from the room as soon as the bang sounded. I stood from my spot on the floor for a better look, but winced in pain. Looking to my stinging wrist, I noticed that the scissors had sliced into my skin hard enough to draw blood this time, and it was dripping from the side of my wrist onto the floor. A metallic taste inhabited my mouth in an instant. There was no relief. I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.

Another bang from outside my window brought my attention back to the matter at hand, and I moved to see what was going on. Leaning up on the counter, I looked out the window, careful not to touch any of the glass that was scattered around, and peered into the darkness. For a minute, I saw nothing. Just the darkness and the nearby tree. And I was ready to go bandage my wrist, but then I saw it. An object coming closer. Closer. Clo...ser?

Something collided with my forehead and I stumbled backwards just as the words reached me. "Demon demon go away, we wish you would have died that day!" A chant. A song that they had made up after that day last year. A song that was sung by children and adults and everyone else, though they only did it when I was alone. The Priests always reminded them to be good people, even to the cursed, and the Tavern patrons kicked the ass of anyone who made fun of me. But at home, I was alone. Vulnerable in their eyes.

A second rock came towards the window, moving in what looked like slow motion, so I moved to the left, allowing it to sail into the kitchen and slam into the floor, sending up shards of glass on impact. Peels of laughter came from outside, but they were ignored as I started back to the floor, keeping my back to the cupboards under the broken window so that any other rocks thrown in wouldn't hit me. And they came in. One after another, hitting the walls and cupboards and toppled over chairs. I bandaged my arms, making the bandages heavier around my hurt wrist, and thought about getting up to scare them away. Maybe just getting up and going to them outside. Make a sudden noise. Throw something back.

"Oi, whattya think you kids are doin'?" A foreign voice brought my attention to outside my house. A voice that was annoyed and angry and confused all at once. "If you don't get outta here we're gonna kidnap you and sell ya to some slavers on Sabaody!" Screams rang out. Rushing footsteps moved away. Silence returned.

Curiosity got the best of me and I stood up from my position on the floor, leaning across the counter to look out the window once more, careful not to disturb the nests. I saw nobody. I heard nobody. Whoever had come and scared the kids away was gone as well, or else they were very good and keeping silent.

"You live here alone, kiddo?" My body jolted and my skin prickled. The voice came from behind me. Inside the house. Inside the kitchen. Turning to look over my shoulder slowly, I saw a strange man standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with a smile on his face. He was bald. Very bald. And his eyes were a bright color that I couldn't make out through my watering eyes (from the sudden fright, not because of the bullies). He held up his hands in defence when I said nothing and smiled broader. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, so don't worry."

I frowned and got off the counter, turning to face him fully and readying to run if need be. "Why do you talk like that?" I questioned, tilting my head to the side.

The man laughed. A real laugh from the gut, clutching at his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, you're funny, kiddo!" His voice changed into something more...proper? "I talk like that because I'm a pirate, and I have a reputation to uphold!"

"That's stupid." I deadpanned, frowning deeper.

He nodded and moved off the wall, sliding down until he sat in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb comfortably. "Yeah, it is pretty stupid, but that's life." I said nothing to that. I had nothing to say. The man continued to smile and gestured for me to take a seat as well. I continued to stand. "So," He started after a moment of silence. "What's your name, kiddo?"

It sure as hell isn't kiddo. "Mara." He gestured for me elaborate, so I did. "Panther D. Mara." His reaction was nothing like I expected. That glittering excitement in his eyes wavered, and he looked shocked. Scared, almost. And I heard him mutter something under his breath like 'one of them', and I frowned harder, if that was even possible. He studied me more closely as the light came back to his eyes, and I wanted to scream at him. But I controlled my voice and addressed his reaction calmly. "I'm not cursed. I promise you I'm not."

"What are you…?"

"They all say that I'm cursed because of what happened, but I'm not." My voice started to rise, but I was frustrated. They had already converted this stranger, and it pissed me off. "The Priests are just dumb and can't understand that she was evil and it has nothing to do with me. I'm not evil. I know I'm not. I would never kill anyone! But no one listens!" I was ranting now. I was ranting to a man that I didn't know. A man that broke into my house. But...it felt good. "So what if I survived? I didn't ask for it! I hate it! I hate that I lived and everyone else died! Why am I cursed for living through that? Margie isn't said to be cursed! She's in the hospital and blind and almost died! She was in worse condition than me! And I'm cursed?! I'm in trouble for living?!" Tears poured down my face and I hung my head, forehead resting in my knees drawn up to my chest. "I hate it. I hate it here. I miss my mom and my dad and my brothers. I just want to...I-I-"

I couldn't speak around the lump in my throat. I wiped my tear and kept my face out of view. The man was silent, and I would have thought he had left if I couldn't see his shoes as he sat across from me on the doorjamb.

The silence between us was heavy until he broke it. "Well, I'm Stafford." I would have scoffed at his seemingly ignoring my ranting, but he kept talking. "And I am the famed Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates!" He sounded proud, and when I peeked up at him, he hands his hands on his hips and his head tilted up with a smug grin. "And I don't think you're cursed, but I think you should come with me."

"I'm not stupid enough to follow a strange man at night."

He scoffed and stood, offering his hand and grinning, eyes shining brightly once again. They were bright blue. "We're going to the Tavern. That Miss Josie said you're always down there, so why not come join us?" I furrowed my brows and he shook his hand in an attempt to get me to grab it. "I think my captain would like to meet you."

"Your captain?" What could a pirate captain want with me?

The pirate Stafford only nodded and took it upon himself to grab my arm, hauling me gently to my feet, minding the bandages as he thought that I was injured beneath them. I allowed him to pull me to my feet and out of the kitchen, towards the front door before I posed the question that I had thought. He only grinned and shrugged. "Well, he sort of has a long running history with your people."

"Me people?"

"Yeah." We walking in the street now, and I only barely registered that my hand was being held in his. "The 'D.' people."

[A/N]: So...? What do you think? Before you ask, yes, Stafford is an OC for the Whitebeard Pirates because I assume that there was someone who was the Second Division Commander before Ace, and as far as I know, there has been no one shown to have filled the position.

Leave reviews and all that jazz and lemme know what you think! I hope you like it~!

Love you and see you soon~

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