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"You are the devil's spawn. You are a sin in this world, a monster."
Her father's words rang in her head everyday as a reminder to who she has become.
A year after she had attacked her classmate, Youko had left the area where her school was located, heading to junior high with a fresh slate.
No one knew her, and she didn't care to know them. All of them were people with lives who hid behind judgement. Their opinions didn't matter, the only ones that did were the opinions of her parents.
And surprisingly, after that whole episode, her parents supported her. Maybe it was genuine care, or they didn't want to deal with another mess, maybe they were scared.
Their support consisted of fighting for her at school when she was a victim of harassment and bullying. Never words of affirmation or physical displays of affection.
Her father may have only ever called her the Devil's Spawn once, but it stuck, that's all she was to anyone, her parents, students at school, she was a monster who people dated to prick.
If a fight was what they wanted she wouldn't back down, even now she was still stronger than anyone in her school, not to mention her survival instincts.
But at some point people gave up challenge, it ended when she felt deja vu in her last assault.
...
"Hey Vixen, sign this shit." A human girl had approached her in class, she was such an annoying girl really.
"Why should I?" Youko replied dryly, looking away.
The girl glares at her, "So we don't have to work dipshit isn't that obvious!"
Youko looked at her with a bland expression. "We're gonna have to do work anyway, silly little petition by a couple of junior high kids."
Youko's tail swayed gently, she was beginning to speak a little too much, this girl was going to regret approaching this blood stained wallflower.
"Don't care about your petty little words Vixen!" The girl grabbed Youko by the collar of her shirt.
Youko flinches her body already tensing, a familiar feeling of fear hitting her.
"I bet that pretty voice of yours is what makes you a little pet." She slams her to the wall, her classmates eagerly watching.
Ah. That's it.
"Or maybe it's your pretty little face that has you passed around like a toy." The girl smirked putting more pressure
Those insults. Finally she could hear them clearly. No more muffueled noise.
"Now Vixen, what's your useless name so I can write it for your useless ass." The girl glared at her.
Youko glared back, "It's not Vixen. That's for sure."
Some students laughed, embarrassed the girl placed her hands on Youko's neck, nails forcefully piercing skin. "I'll kill you!!"
Youko mocked a shocked expression. "Kill? Me?" She coughed and laughed at the same time.
The girl became infuriated, but before she could speak Youko grabbed her hands in experienced motion.
"What are you-" The girl protested until she felt a sharp pain in her hands.
"You think you can kill me?" Youko chuckled nervously, the adrenaline was kicking in. "I'd like to see you try."
"Let go!! Let go!! You freak!" The girl began to wriggle in panic.
Youko's nails scraped skin more and more causing her to release the girl.
The girl had screamed causing a commotion, students surrounding her to see if she was alright. The teacher finally entered the room after the first 5 minutes... It had only been a few minutes for Youko to be reimbursed into her past.
She hurt someone again, but didn't they hurt her first? Why is it that she always feels so guilty afterwards?
.
.
"What are we going to do with you?"
"..."
"We give you everything you want. And all you do is missbave at school. It's your only job!"
Youko's father paced back and forth in Youko's now bedroom. Her mother idly brushed her own hair as the scolding began. Youko looked down at her cold hands ears drooped, still feeling the girl's skin beneath them.
"I can't believe you. You're such a monster!"
Drip
"What did that girl do to deserve getting scratched so hadly Youko!?"
Drip
"Answer me damnit!" Reinard's voice was now loud and demanding.
Youko shrunk her form as she lowered her head.
"N-nothing father." She bit her tounge, maybe it was for lying, or maybe from holding back the incoming sprinkle of tears. Her tone and stutter failed her.
Reinard's ear twitched as he turned to look at her.
"Look at me Youko. I swear if your crying!-"
Youko froze, "I- I'm not f-ather. I-" Youko had to gasp for air. God why now?
Youko had begun to notice that when under extreme stress her speech would begin to slur, her eyesight often blurred, and her chest beginning to tighten.
"Youko, listen to your father." Mari spoke plainly still focused on her hair ignoring and maternal instincts to protect her daughter from any harm.
Youko covered her face sobbing. "I'm sorry..! I'm sorry! Sorry! I d-didn't mean to! I-" Her wails were muffled from stutters and shortness of breath.
Reinard huffed, "Let's leave her Mari, she can't eat dinner until she controls herself." He began to leave the room, Mari following blindly behind him.
"Youko."
"..."
"There's nothing to cry about." They left for the dining room.
"..."
"....You should only cry when someone's died...." Youko managed to whisper silently.
"..."
"AAAAAHHH-" She wriggled around on her bed, face still covered.
"Stupid.. Stupid! STUPID!" Her nails pierced the corners of her eyelids, blood forming at the wounds.
"If only you stopped crying!" She scratched and scratched until her skin burned, tears adding to the fresh wound.
She looked around fur bristling, getting up to close the door, not as if her parents would care. She dropped to the floor shaking heart beating rapidly.
"Stupid school! Stupid people! I didn't do anything wrong!! Damnit!" She hit the floor viciously with the sides of her fists. She wailed loudly cursing this damn world that denied her any form of community.
She couldn't calm, every single event and comment on her life racing back to her head, she wanted it all out.
Her hands moving from her face to her head as she scratched viciously. Her thoughts are away at her head like fleas. Her hair began to fall and somehow that brought relief.
Blood now dried under her eyes, her scalp slightly damp from scars. She stood up, tear stained to the face, hair a mess, she walked to her bathroom. She looked into the mirror smiling twisted. She looked at what she had become, a deranged monster, just like everyone said.
She began to tug at her hair, pulling out chunks. After a while it didn't hurt anymore, coming out easily. She had become tired, sinking to the floor riddled with her hair. She held herself against the cold bathroom wall, crying had become painful as they would sting the wounds under her eyes. Her nails caressing her skin, tempting her. She sunk them in.
.
.
Two years later this process became a cycle. No one noticed, or maybe they just didn't care, her parents sure didn't. Then again they never noticed her suffering before, so why would they now.
Those who would noticed, avoided her at all costs, bad rumors made her some sort of delinquent.
Each scar representing some tussle. However, there wasn't much to fear really. She declawed herself over and over constantly. The sensation of flesh between her nails feeling uncomfortable. She'd cut everyday to an unhealthy extent. Her fingers bleeding and rashing to the short length. She couldn't stand that feeling anymore, she had to ride of it. Hidden scars lay at her fingertips, mirroring every other one on the rest of her body.
But no one really knew where the scars beneath her eyelids or the scars on her neck came from. At the time she was mostly covered at school. Hiding away the scars on her chest, the long gashes on her stomach, or even the light wounds on her arms and legs.
Her hair though... people did notice. Of course they did. It's what made her "beautiful" as her father put it. What made her stand out in the croud, a young beautiful girl with medium-long length hair that seemed to "beg" for unwanted attention. Her father's pride and joy really.
So when it started looking more disheveled and almost less, obviously people too the chance to mistreat her once more.
She was sick of it.
She was home one night.
Her father just finished yelling at her as her mother left for work.
She sat in the bathroom.
Floor covered in blood and hair.
Face stained with a mixture of tears and blood.
She looked at the mirror once more. If she was truly the spawn of the devil...why wasn't he here to guide her?
Isn't that what parents are supposed to do. Her parents told her she'd have anything she wanted because they would be there for her. She was their princess. Their blessing. But how could she be as she stared at the reflection of a red girl who hadn't been shown love in six years.
If the devil was her father, why didn't he give her everything she wanted? Was she really as bad as they say. So much so that even the fallen angel himself would deprive her of attention?
She then looked at the smaller mirror to her left, it was a door to a cabinet. She remembered it well, her mother kept a few medical supplies there. But what she was looking for cause more harm than good.
There.
Youko grabbed a large pair of orange scissors, admiring them. She remembered it, the warm silence when her mother took the time to cut her hair for her when it got too long or when the ends split. Her mother held these exact same scissors with love, and now, Youko held them with an immense hatred.
She held them up to the ends of her hair, looking at the mirror.
"This is all that I am right?" She spoke to herself, her greatest company.
"Hehe.... If that's true..." Snip.
"Then I don't want to be me at all."
.
That day, Youko Kypher spiraled into her most dangerous manic episode ever.
Cutting large chunks of her hair, causing wounds to her hands and arms as a result of sparatic cutting. Her shortened nails still sharp as ever leaving marks along her skin. She lay motionless on her bathroom floor, hair outlining her silhouette.
Her father never looked into her room, thinking she was throwing a "tantrum" like always. So she lay there overnight, so close to the edge of death like how she wanted after various failures.
In the early hours of the morning, her mother entered the room, arriving from work, screaming in horror. Her daughter at the age of fourteen layed cold and bloody on her bathroom floor. The child neglected of her parents love for years. The child bullied for no other reason than the fact that she couldn't just fit in.
Youko was almost liberated that day, free from the cruelty of the world. Who knows, maybe she could've seen Ares one last time in the afterlife before she was sent below to burn. Ares. That's all she wanted, to hold him once more, nuzzle his soft hair, inhaling his scent, hearIng his laughter. If she had him, maybe she wouldn't have become what she has now.
.
.
.
Youko aged fifteen was abandoned by her parents once more. They let her get sent away to some facility to help her.
Why couldn't they just do it themselves.
Youko pondered that alot in the beginning of her stay, slowly caring less and less for an answer.
One major flaw to this facility was that it also served to forward her education. This meant Youko still wasn't her true self. She was able to create a facade to all the staff that she was more well put together.
The school was divided into sections, the smaller the section, the more supervised. She was placed at number one. She felt like an animal. Not because of the conditions no, some staff did intend to assist her, but the labeling triggered her to her core. She wasn't a monster, she was I'll. But no one knew how to name it properly, and it pissed her off.
She'd get into a few scuffles here and there, she'd always win of course but nothing to severe. She behaved herself for the most part, feeding into this lie of healing. One that would move her down to the third section by her second year.
She had made a reputation of herself. One she created from the ground up. Her parents weren't here to judge her anymore, they left, losing the right to ever tell her who she should be again. But she will always remember what she'd be labeled as, it's who she had become internally.
.
.
Lucien stood to the side after their little introductory "meet n' greet".
He had looked around disinterested, hoping to head back to his sleeping quarters for the day. But something... someone still catching his eye. Youko Kypher... The fox beastman seemed eerily familiar, he couldn't help but stare.
She carried herself in such a way, it was almost as if she ruled this facility, everyone avoiding her fury, almost always obeying or agreeing with what she said.
He had watched her initiate some banter with a tall human boy. The boy seemed to make flirtatious advances to her, in which she seemingly declined. The boy didn't seem satisfied with the response, but before Lucien could form any worry, his attention was called away.
"I wouldn't go looking at that one too long." A lynx beastman and fellow section member stood next to him.
"And why would that be?" Lucien questioned with irritation, who the hell was this guy?
The lynx chuckled underneath his breath. "That. That's the Devil's princess." His ear flicked as he yawned.
Lucien puzzled by the statement was about to ask what he meant but was distracted by the small faded scars on the lynx's hands. How could something so tiny stay scarred?.
Lucien looked back at Youko, she seemed so...carefree what could have possibly happened for her to earn such a title.
His interest was more piqued than ever. Maybe along his journey... he'd be able to learn about the secrets behind the seemingly most notorious patient here, a girl defined as low royalty, tied back to an antagonist in religious faith.
"Youko Kypher... Just who are you?"