A\N: Ah, hello there. Marie Hawkins here. I'm not usually one for corny author's notes, but it's late, I'm tired, and I feel like writing one. (Plus I don't wanna think about the doom of my impending Chem II test…)

Though I have, like, seven other fics going on right now, I really felt the need to post this one. You probably know how that goes, the story in your head is screaming to be written and won't shut up until you give in, so… yeah. I have noted there are numerous fics about what happened to Sebastian "Pre-Kuro" though there was never really anything about Claude (because no one likes him as much, except for –apparently- me. Except, I totally hate him, too. It's a weird love\hate thing. Don't judge me.). Anyway, due to the insane amount of time I've recently spent watching Kuro II and listening to Emilie Autumn, I sort of "birthed" this one day.

So, just a little background\random stuff I feel like I should mention: This is (obviously) pre-kuro (taking place in the 1850's, so not TOO far ahead, just a few decades. :D), this will deal with some fairly dark material- as insane asylums were not happy places in the Victorian Era (yes, I have googled the subject a little, go me!). You will be warned should there be any really heavy dark material, so hoorah for that. Also, I am not making money for this (it's just for fun because I have no life), I don't own Kuroshitsuji or Kuroshitsuji II (that honor belongs to Yana Toboso), and I would really like for you to leave a review. ;) Pretty please with a cherry on top!


Prologue

I hadn't meant to stumble upon the sight. I hadn't meant to lose my innocence. Perhaps because I was out of bed after hours, which was a sin within itself, I was cursed to become a witness. Nevertheless, I saw it all. I saw everything that happened that night.

My governess, Townnesend, liked to dress in black. It was the only color her wardrobe seemed to contain. The dull, empty color always bothered me. Secretly, I wished I could sneak into her room and paint her dresses a different color.

Townnesend's black dress was even more dislikeable when it was stained with my mother's blood. I was sure I was too young to know anything about the relationship between my mother and my governess, though I'd always been able to sense some form of hostility. The argument that was taking place this particular evening, revolving around my father, got out of hand. From the top of the stairs I watched, a mere girl of seven, as my mother was murdered.

I ran back to my room as quickly as my legs would carry me, throwing myself onto my mattress with inexplicable force. Moments later, my bedroom door creaked open. Townnesend quietly slipped to my side, still dripping in her disgusting black lace, as well as my mother's blood. She leaned down and kissed my cheek, tucking me in.

"I know you saw," she whispered menacingly in my ear. I closed my eyes tightly, fearing what the woman would do to me, as I was the only witness to her horrendous crime. I knew she didn't care much for me either.

"If you breathe a word of it to your father, you'll regret the day you were born," she whispered sweetly as she exited my room. Grudgingly, over the next few months, I obeyed her orders. It wasn't until my father announced their engagement that I'd even had the courage to speak up about it. But, to know that horrid woman was attempting to take my mother's place was too much for my poor young spirit to bear.

My father did his best to listen to my panicked explanation of what had occurred merely a year ago. He had not been present in the house at the time of the murder, and was quite naïve. He listened to my story kindly and lovingly, respecting his foolish little girl just as he'd always done. He explained it was only natural to want my mother back, and that my feelings of hatred toward Townnesend would disappear. He said she would be the perfect mother for me.

This information sent me over the edge. I rarely ate, and only spoke of my mother's murder. I would speak to anyone who would listen, but to no avail. Townnesend suggested to my father that I was taking my mother's death too hard, and that I might suffer from insanity. They both decided that it would be best if I stayed in an asylum until I was cured.

That is how I came to Northwood Home for Wayward Girls.