The darkness called to her.

Why? No one knew, but she had felt its pull for as long as she could remember. Her parents told her she had been born with it.

Even as a baby, before she could walk or talk, she would seek out the dark. Much to their dismay.

But to her, it was simply who she was. Her whole life she had been seeking it out.

It didn’t scare her, it was a comfort. The darkness didn’t question, didn’t force her to be truthful or honest.

Oh no, she could lie and steal and cheat in the darkness and no one would dare question it, because, because they were scared of the darkness.

They were scared of her.

It seemed that, even when she found herself in the light, she longed for the dark. She would dress in black clothes every day, as if her very soul was consumed by the same entity.

Her parents tried, tried to keep her from its grasp, terrified of what it would do to her. But their efforts seemed futile, as from the moment she had been born, so has her love of the dark.

No one understood her and she didn’t care. She had no reason or desire to explain to her parents or to anyone about the matter.

Her heart was not dark, though most didn’t understand this. If her love of the dark was as strong as it seemed to be, surely her heart and soul were just as dark?!

But they weren’t. She wasn’t mean or evil and found herself often upset with those that seemed to think she was such.

She was simply who she was. A sweet kind person that loved the dark.