She had always wondered why the Smiths had treated her so poorly. She did all they asked, stayed quiet and did not ask for many extravagances. Yet, they treated her horrendously. Her room was a small square of rotten wood in the attic, her clothes were tattered and dirty because they were never washed, and she was always sent to do the worst jobs in the manor. She was sent to the manor when she was 7, after her parents had died. They were killed by a mass murderer who was close to taking her life as well. At times she wished he had. With no space in any orphanages, the foster care organization sent her to work and live with the Smiths. The minute the orphanage director took her into the house she hated it. She was thrown a pile of ragged clothes that looked like they were from the dumpster and she was showed to her "room." She received cold stares from the children that lived there. Her master or "Him" as she addressed him was the most cruel, unforgiving person she had met in her life (which was not very impressive considering she rarely left the house). He had abused her, teased her, and made her run to her room to cry countless times. There was no Mistress of the house. Perhaps that was why there was no joy or love visible in the family. When she asked about the Mistress she received a response of "She's gone." With observations provided by her great curiosity she figures out that the Him's wife was murdered somehow. Talk of her was the only time he ever showed weakness.
She now woke up in her small room wondering if her life was even worth living. Her eyes remained closed mulling over all the misfortunes that had come her way. She hated everyone and everyone hated her. The ongoing battles both verbal and physical between her and The Him had clawed at her heart and had turned her into a cold-hearted unforgiving being. While she was under his control she did not fail to bruise him every so often. Through her work she had become very strong physically while the days drained her sanity away. Just couple weeks ago she was making breakfast and she made two eggs for him instead of one. He had stopped giving her food for two weeks! She used to cut herself in anger and frustration. Suicide was a question she asked herself often. She opened her eyes and she made towards the corner in which her clothes lay. She put them on hastily as she would probably be called to make breakfast very soon. Abruptly, a voice blasted through the intercom nailed recklessly to the wall, "Breakfast won't make itself Atheala!" She sprinted downstairs, grabbed the pots and pans and began to make breakfast for the family of 3. When she set the meal of eggs and toast on the table her master quickly shooed her away and she retreated to the maid's closet and began cleaning the house. 
She also had to eat her own breakfast of stale bread and moldy cheese. The only other food she had besides this was stolen and was usually hidden for when they forgot to give her food or were punishing her for doing something wrong (which was more often than one would think). While she was sweeping the floors and scrubbing the windows she wondered when she would ever leave this place. She had limited connections beyond the house and her, being uneducated, wouldn't get very far without help.
Later that that day she was summoned to her masters office. According to John he was angry at her for something. She never cared for his opinion very much anyway. She quickly finished making the beds and raced downstairs. When she got to his office her heart was racing, she hated when he got mad. She walked in and closed the door behind her. The Him's office was large room with the walls lined in mahogany bookshelves. On them were books of all shapes and sizes. Not that she would ever be able to read one. There were also souvenirs from his journeys throughout world. He had artifacts from America, Asia and Africa. His large desk at in the middle of the room atop it many papers and folders. He summoned her to sit on the chair beside his desk. Cautiously she took a seat. "I have something important tell you," he said. ""You are finally old enough to go up to the trash piles alone and you will." 
"I don't understand," she said, "Why is this so important?" 
"Because, "he said matter-of-factly, "it's more dangerous than you think" She groaned as she knew the trek to the pile was dangerous and physically exhausting. "You will walk up there tonight and every night from now on to take our trash so we will not have to pay others to do it for you." He then slid a knife across the table. She flinched as the weapon came towards her. "You will need this for protection," he said. She took it flipping it over in her hands. She feared the moment she would come to use it. He dismissed her and she went back to her room. 
She had no idea why they would give her a knife. She could very easily threaten them or herself and cause harm to their family. Or maybe they knew she was so frail and broken she didn't have the strength to kill another human being, no matter how cruel. She wrapped the knife in cloth and packed a bag for the trip. The trip was about a 45 minute walk both ways. She took water, an extra coat and of the knife. She stumbled down the staircase weighed down by the weight of the bag. When she reached the bottom Him directed her towards a large bag full of trash and she groaned knowing the effort it would take to take it up the cliff to the piles. She left through the front door and stepped into the cold, windy weather and he begun her journey.
She continued walking her feet sinking deep into the muddy ground with every step. Her tattered clothes blowing in the blistering wind. Her pale cheeks reddened by the wintery climate. Her feet were already blistered from the backs or her ancient shoes. While Vienna was beautiful, especially the inner city, the outskirts were far from magnificent.Trash surrounded the area and rickety shacks existed in small clusters. There were rumors that late at night certain creatures lurked in the shadows. Her heart pounded as these rumors and fears came to the front of her mind. Every step she took seemed to drain her energy more and more.
As she neared the top of the hill she saw something shift among the dark shadows. "Who's there," she called out, her voice shaking slightly. The long climb had caused her breaths to become shallow and her lungs were stained with fear and exhaustion. Suddenly the creature jumped out at her. She let out a piercing wail and her bag fell towards the ground. 
A elusive bear emerged form shadows. His teeth bared as if he was in search of a meal. Suddenly Atheala understood why she was given the knife. She stood as still as she could as her hand sunk deeper into her satchel searching for the handle of the blade. As her fingers brushed the smooth edge of the metal hilt she paused to wonder if what she was doing was right. She quickly dismissed the thought  She began pulling it out slowly while her eyes stayed fixed on the bear. A new emotion washed over her unlike any she's felt before. A sense of authority. She knew that this was her fight. The bear was wild and angry so she remained calm. The bear was ruthless and selfish so she remained composed and understanding. The monster walked slowly towards her.  She quickly unsheathed the knife and grasped the ornate hilt embezzled with dragons and monsters. A feeling of complete power overcame her and she charged. As if she was born to fight she dodged the bears lunge rolled under it a struck it with the knife. It fell as the red liquid of death flowed from its chest.
She knew now the full extent of her power. She was strong talented and could do whatever she wished. Then she felt hate burn through her heart and soul and her senses went numb. She knew what she had to do. Revenge was long overdue. She left her bag atop the hill next to the dying creature. Any shred of guilt she had was diluted by the fire. That's what she called it. The fire. The hate the existed within her. 
She ran faster than ever before and knocked on the door of the manor. She hid the knife behind her back. "WHAT," Him said when he saw her standing there, "GET INSIDE AND USE THE BACK DOOR NEXT TIME." She didn't respond and just stared at him. "WELL?" he repeated. She drew the knife from behind her back and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything there was a knife sunk into his chest and she simply smiled at the dead man. Then she ran. The Fire carrying her across the winds. She was in full power now. 
Her next stop was the orphanage. She hated everyone there for sending her to the Smiths. 1 hour later everyone in the orphanage was dead. Stabbed by the same knife. She was running. A now scarlet stained knife clutched in her hand. Every kill fed the Fire. Made it stronger and kept her running. She then saw a man on the street. He looked at her with fearful eyes. He barley had moved before he was dead. No witnesses the Fire told her. She killed 20 people that night and when she collapsed in the corner of an alley she smiled. "Take that," she said, "who's in charge now?" And she fell asleep covered in blood.
When she woke her first thought was to ask where she was. For the 10 years before that she had always woken up in the same old room in the same bed. She was human for that split second but then the Fire came again. She immediately reached out for her blade. She wondered what she would do. She began walking down the street. Everyone knew of what happened the night before and the street was deserted the scent of blood still lingering in the air.
  She stopped to pick up a piece of broken glass on the floor. In it she saw herself. But different. Her eyes looked wild and blood from her hands had coated the glass. She had no idea h0ow she had gotten this way. The Fire had taken her over. She no longer had control. She collapsed in tears in the road and she realized that it was blade. But had Him known. Had he understood the power of the blade and the id. She had seen this harm it could inflict upon the world. She hated herself but the Fire was still there and it urged her to go on. She knew of only one way to end it. Her and the blade. So she took herself and Fire back to the corner in which she slept the night before. And she plunged the knife into her heart.
Atheala Winters now lies dead in a distant alley in Vienna and now multiple years later a distraught young boy running away from an abusive home runs into the alley and he finds a silver blade next to a pile of bones.