I crouched in the darkness, my eyes quickly adjusting. The girl was washing the dishes, mumbling a song of sadness under her breath, her black netted top drawn up to her elbows. Nothing about the action seemed to grab my attention but I couldn’t take my eyes of this unusual creature in front of me. Her hair, so fiery, was tied together with a stray piece of string so loosely she was constantly flicking it back from her eyes. Her eyes! Long, thick lashes framed the most bright lime eyes which were contrasted by outrageous eyeliner, drawing her whole persona together. A label I had heard spoke many times, nearly always in disgust for those that weren’t one of the mentioned. The girl sighed, drawing me back to my Peeping-Tom post. I flinched away from that thought, reminding myself that it was my job. Often, people were shallow and judgemental, always planning what to do next for the best reaction. Every once in a while, a figure would stand out, usually when I was getting more and more disgusted by the way the world has evolved. Often, their fate was twisted, just for being different. The girl was one of these. The girl, I scoffed. I knew her name, of course. Erika. Her name described her perfectly. So young, a age of 15, when she should be out, doing whatever teens girls do now. Yet here she was, singing the lyrics of depression, the words of her destiny. That’s me. Destiny. I was just a girl with a weird name, which could be considered an omen. I had found out too much and now I was forever chained to this role, the factor in your life that could either make or break you.