Ever since that incident in the forest, everyone at the church treated Mary differently. Anytime the other children saw her, they would laugh and run away. Anytime the adults saw her, they would avert their eyes. As if they wanted nothing to with the young child.

The pale, periwinkle-haired was used to it now. After all, it had been four long, strenuous years. She had only been eight then.

There was only one person who ever treated her like an actual human after that: Sister Theresa, the raven-haired woman with beautiful grey eyes who always carried a beautiful rosary with her.

It was she who saved poor Mary so many years ago, she who named Mary, Mary. Mary Magdalena, to be precise. After St. Mary Magdalene, the patron saint of women. If it wasn't for Sister Theresa, she would've never learned how to play the organ and would've never become the church organist.

Playing the organ during Sunday Mass was Mary's only joy other than Sister Theresa. The sound of the metal pipes comforted her.

Mary gripped the purple and gold rosary in her hand. It was the only thing Sister Theresa left behind. The only thing left of her after the fire.

Looking up at the colorful stained glass window with her bright eyes, she prayed. She prayed to a God she wasn't sure she even believed in. But she hoped; Mary hoped He would hear her. Hear her plea of desperation — That even though her hands, feet, and nails were an unnatural shade of black, her teeth: sharp like a wolf, and her abdomen with its unnerving green crystal, that there would be someone in this world who would accept her; just like Theresa did.

Mary sighed, knowing that her wish was simply a distant dream. A dream that might never be fulfilled.

Suddenly, she heard a voice in the background, snapping her out and away from her thoughts. The Head Nun, Abbess Jeanne, had called for her. Other than being the church organist, Mary, along with the other children, did chores. Today was Mary's turn to help with breakfast, so the small girl hurried into the kitchen.

-

Like always, the newly renovated kitchen (thanks to a mysterious donor) was bustling with noise. All around her, Mary could hear the voices of other nuns, instructing the other kids, and those same kids replying - some with glee, others not so much.

With the instruction from one nun, Sister Liza, Mary went straight to work. She quickly grabbed the bag of flour and yeast from the cabinet. Some of the other kids who saw how quickly she followed orders snickered, but Mary ignored them. She hated getting into trouble and tried to avoid it.

Well, most of the time, at least.

Nearby was a girl named Kate Wellington. She was only a year older than Mary, but sometimes she acted as if she was younger than the latter. The blonde girl always messed with Mary any chance she could.

Today, Mary and Kate were to make bread for breakfast, and the two girls worked right next to each other, kneading dough.

As Mary was working, a gust of flour hit her. The blue-haired girl coughed. The flour dried her eyes. Mary looked over at the green-eyed girl, who was snickering.

"Hey!" she barked. Kate looked back at her.

"What?" she questioned, raising her left eyebrow, unable to hide her amusement.

"You have some nerve saying that when you blew flour at me!" Mary replied.

"Hah!" Kate scoffed. "As if you have any evidence of that."

"Then tell me, who else could've done that?" The shorter girl continued, "There isn't anyone else nearby." Mary pointed to the space between them and the other children.

"Well," Kate started, twirling her blonde locks. "It could've been the wind from one of the open windows." The taller girl looked at the open window near the counter.

'As if!' Mary thought. 'Who cares if she's taller than me? I can beat her in a fight!'

Before Mary could do anything, however, a loud, high-pitched voice rang throughout the church.

"Let me go!" The voice yelled.

It was a boy with reddish-brown hair and silver eyes.