Those hazel eyes are soft; eyes that don't belong to a killer. That was what she had said, so long ago. Prided herself on it really. Never shall she once take a life, and technically she never has, but her fiends have. The blonde with the blue eyes and the brunette with the green, they've taken quite a few. One after another they've broken down lives. The black haired with dark, almost black, had been more gentle, but she too then fell to the urge to kill. She was the only one left. The only one who hasn't taken a life. That had changed today. It wasn't anything big, but it was freeing. She had killed a piece of her child. She was fourteen, a young age, yet she could not help it. She gave up what her child has been holding on to. A little stuffy, a tiger, had sat on her bed for years. It was probably the same age as she. She had given it up. Thrown it away, and it went wherever they go, and so did her inner child. In the mirror she stood and for the first time she had not seen the child's face. The one that plagued her dreams. The one that people told her to get rid of. Well she did, but she does not have the eyes of a killer, though she had murdered. Maybe her vision was protecting her once more.