Sullied and distraught, she made her way through the dark street. Unaware of her motives, the damage had been done, the consequences, irreversible. With each step, the rain soaked tarmac slushed beneath her nimble feet, no shoes, just blistered soles.

What had she done? Why had she done it? What had she become? All questions, which spun around in her young head, but not a single answer to be yielded. With blood now drying on her chapped fingers tips, all that she could think about was her two broken nails, and the frizz of her hair.

But what about him? What did she do to him? Did ‘he’ deserve it? Was ‘she’ provoked? Should she have simply acquiesced? ‘NO! Of course not’, she recalled. But it was not the crime which disturbed her, it was the motives.

She was not bad girl by nature; not one to fight or rebel anymore than any other ‘normal’ sixteen year old, but something had changed, something was wrong. And now, here she was, wearing sodden, torn clothing, running bloodied and barefoot down the drenched city street in the middle of the night.

No guilt: Just confusion; and fearful of the monster which had been released…