I was a very peculiar baby. I could remember every single moment of my life, starting right after I first opened my eyes. My first sight was my mother crying, and my father looking down at me with disappointment. Even my elder brother, who was 6 at the time, had looked at me with pity. I couldn't comprehend the looks on their faces, with my baby brain, but as I got older, I began to be able to tell people treated me oddly.

At age 1, I was already waddling short distances. But the only person to witness my first steps was my brother. He looked at me, really annoyed, and I grinned at him. Maybe if I hadn't smiled, he wouldn't have left the room so fast. Maybe he would've stayed. But I did smile. And he didn't stay

When I turned 4, I spent my birthday with my family for the first time. They had taken me out, and I was so excited to see what their surprise was. They led me to an apartment building, and I was sad when they didn't even look at me. They let me into an apartment, where there was just a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and a bathroom.

"Lucifer," my mother said.

I smiled widely at my name. "Yes?" At that age, I was already speaking perfectly.

"You'll be studying here. And living, at that," she stated with a cold expression. Her eyes couldn't even meet mine. They strayed to the air next to my face.

My smile instantly dropped. "Living?" I was so confused. They wanted to live in this small apartment instead of our mansion?

Father stepped in. "Yes. You'll stay here, and you are not to contact us no matter what." His gaze could meet mine , but I wish they couldn't. They were cold, with no trace of the emotion that showed when he looked at Liam, or Mother.

"Mother, can we leave now?" My brother, Liam asked. He looked impatient and uncomfortable. At age 10, he was already turning out to look like our father. Platinum blond hair, pale grey eyes, sharp eyebrows, and placid facial expression.

His words registered in my mind.

"You're not staying with me?" I had asked, my gaze flitting to all the faces of my family over and over. My entire world was shattering. I knew I looked different, with scarlet eyes and ebony black hair. But Mother had black hair as well, and I didn't think my eyes were enough to make them want to leave me.

Mother sighed and walked out of the room. I looked to Father, but he too had already gone with Mother. I had looked to Liam, tears already pouring out my eyes, making my face damp. "P-please don't leave me. I promise I'll be good. I won't ever do anything, I swear." I had pleaded so hard, begging not to be left.

But Liam had just looked at me, disgust and something else in his eyes. "It's your fault Mother is upset. You never should've been born."

After that, I was alone. I had to do everything myself. Up till then, servants had bathed me, as I was too young to do it myself. I struggled to reach towels and stuff, and then I spent quite a bit of time figuring out how to get the water to stay in the tub, without going down the drain. And I didn't exactly know about temperature at that age. So I got quite a few burns from jumping into piping hot water. As I was undressing, my head got stuck, and I bumped into everything as I wrestled it off. The full-body mirror on the wall caught my eyes as I stumbled past it. I froze, and then back up some.

There it was. In black into. Tattooed on my shoulder. The reason everyone left me. I tried to scrub it off, not knowing that the ink I was born with wasn't removable.

Refusing to give up, I grew up on my own, using my surroundings to their fullest. I even went to the store alone. I asked adults to help me pay for things, and then the cashiers would think that they were my guardians or something. Nothing was right. I couldn't cook, so it was cup noodles almost every single night. I had to move a chair in front of the microwave to be able to reach. The one time I tried to cook, I accidentally pressed my palm onto the hot stovetop, giving myself an ultra-painful burn. It didn't scar, but it was very sensitive and painful for the next few weeks. I was forced to take out trash myself, and do my own laundry. All these chores my parents would usually do, while all the other children played around.

It went on like that until I started primary school. Children around me shied away, leaving me to myself. A few gutsy kids picked on me, and others joined in once they realized that I didn't fight back. They pulled my hair, scribbled on my desk, and poured juice all over me, which stung my eyes. I had stopped crying by the time I got to be a middle schooler. The bullying was more intense, but the teachers never did anything. Kids ripped my clothes, physically and mentally hurt me. Some punched and kicked, others said hurtful things. I never did retaliate, for hope, they would someday leave me alone. But they didn't.

Then there was the sacrifice incident in the 8th grade, and then the abduction happened during my first year of high school. No one even noticed I was gone until my body turned up in the streets, bruised and broken. I had to go to months and months of therapy, just to be able to talk normally. But even my therapist was judging silently. I couldn't do anything, and no one wanted to help.

All I could do was blame that stupid tattoo. It was a curse. It was the mark of the Fallen Angel. The date I would be taken away was written in roman numerals. I was being ridiculed and ostracized for things I couldn't control. I never wanted to be Satan's little plaything. I just wanted to be a normal child, with loving parents, a loving brother, and loving friends. It was everyone's wish to be loved, and at that time, it was no different for me.

But after a while, I knew. You couldn't depend on others. At 16, there was no more point in waiting. No one would love you if you couldn't "fit in". Others would never really understand and will do anything, anything, to be accepted. So, I decided to be my own everything. After one point, I decided, to play it safe, and need only myself.