A/N- WARNING- Slightly haunting and dark. A tad depressing also.


Lord Wyatt sat in a high backed chair in front of a large mirror. The only light came from the burning torches in the walls of the Underworld. He was idly twirling a small necklace between his fingers. A small silver chain, nothing fancy, with a small star on the end, the name 'Jessica' engraved on the back. To anyone around him it was no more than a piece of junk but to Wyatt it was something so much more.

The memory he had burning inside him, burning for years on end. The first to die.


He had been twenty-one, the desire for darkness had grown so much, he wanted it, wanted to feel the power course through him. He needed it.

She was his first, no more than a girl. No older than seventeen or eighteen. Alone in an alleyway on a dark night; the most cliché thing in the world- but to Wyatt Matthew Halliwell it didn't matter. He was the hunter and she was his prey. Silently he had approached her, the moonlight glinting on the athame in his hand. She sensed something and turned just in time to see a flash of silver and a spurt of red.

She hadn't needed to die.

In Wyatt's mind; the blood dripping down his arm, coating it crimson wasn't what came to mind the second he closed his eyes.

It wasn't the tang of blood that filled the night air that haunted his dreams.

It wasn't the dying cry that echoed in his ears continuously.

It was the scream.

The S C R E A M.

It pierced the night air, ripped through every pore in his body. But no one was around to hear it, no one but him.

Her body had fallen so gracefully she might not have died, just fallen off the two-inch heels she had no doubt spent hours picking out in the mall with friends. The necklace glinted in the ominous moonlight, the parts that weren't smeared with the blood from the puddle it had fallen in, shone; almost beckoning him to take it.

He had pocketed the small treasure with a sadistic grin, it was his memento.

The next day it was all over the news, the girl had been recently engaged to a wealthy young man and was expecting a baby. Controversy had sprung up all around. The baby wasn't his; she had been cheating on him so he killed her.

For a moment, the happiness was gone. He hadn't taken one life- he'd taken two.

They had been his first- but they hadn't been his last.


Lord Wyatt growled in frustration and the mirror broke into thousands of pieces as his powers grew uncontrollably. He looked down at the broken mirror but didn't see his broken reflection. He saw the reflection of a murderer; a killer who smiled as the bodies fell; a homicidal maniac who killed his own family for power. The necklace slipped from his grip and he knelt to pick it up.

He no longer saw the unknown man's reflection, he saw fragments.

Broken lives and broken hearts, the tiny pieces of crushed glass became tears of his victims, the dying sparkles in their eyes.

The happiness was in pieces, the Underworld coming to rule. The world was no longer whole…

…It was in fragments.