Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man with its wonderful characters was written by and belongs to the talented Katsura Hoshino. I do not own it.

Warnings: Contains blood, torture, OC death.


The ballroom is fantastic. It is gold and glimmers and is oh so beautiful. The candles (the pretty striped ones) are lit, and the dark red curtains (nope, not the boring brown, those were burned) are pulled back to let some natural light in. The people (fragile little things) dance, and a girl (not a girl) watches them from the top of the golden, sparkling staircase. The finely dressed gentlemen, all glossy and smiling (not smiling, smirking), bow to the ladies in the pretty dresses, requesting to dance with the women. The sylphlike women in light colors receive more attention from these gentlemen (these disgustingly lustful gentlemen) than the other maidens.

The girl (not) watches them with an almost (definitely) predatory look in her eyes. The dancers weave around each other, all of their dancing feet matching the rhythm of the gentle music. She watches them so very carefully, is aware of the glances they send each other, and knows exactly what is going through their mind (but does she really?).

There, the blond-haired man dancing with the little brunette, he hates the old man to his left. The old man? He hates the striking redhead dancing with the black-haired man. The striking redhead despises the little brunette. The little brunette hates the black-haired man. The man with the dark hair harbors a burning hatred towards the man with hair the color of this golden room.

A circle of burning, burning, burning hatred.

Why do they hate each other? The girl (not, not, not) wonders about that. She doesn't know why they hate, but she does know that look in their eyes, those little glances, those lingering stares, the darkness lurking behind those smiling eyes. Some of those eyes flare with hatred. Others simply smolder. Then, she smiles. Does it matter why they hate? Their hatred for each other is a good (a marvelous) thing for her and her family (so loving and sweet). The hatred spills sweet, red blood and burns warm homes and poisons sweet, red wine. The black (so comforting) cloaks her and her family and their pretty, little army.

Suddenly (not suddenly), she is aware of another person, watching the people as well, next to her. The girl (not) turns her head, and brings her attention to the other girl (human) at the top of the staircase. She recognizes the other girl. This other girl, a blonde, attends some of the tea parties Mother (not her mother) throws when Mother's sickness isn't raging. She's sweet (rotten) and proper (horrendous) and pretty (ugly) and has a lovely (quite lovely) flower in her golden hair.

And the girl (Noah) hates this blonde beam of sunshine (this human cesspit). Oh, but this blonde isn't special. See, the Noah (Road Kamelot) hates every weak human. They are ugly, hideous creatures (are they really?). She can't wait to see all of them (maybe not all of them) dead.

The humans, ever filled with that strange instinct, (especially this one next to her) sense that something is wrong with Road Kamelot (and also her family) and attempt to stay away.

The blonde, Elizabeth, eyes Road warily. Then, the blonde smiles. And Road does too. After all, this is a ball, and they must be respectful and on their best behavior. They smile and say hello and the blonde quietly laughs, but they both know it's a lie, a lie, and a lie. Elizabeth, like all humans, fear what is different and wrong. And Road, little Road, is everything that is different and wrong.

The little Kamelot examines Elizabeth for the moment. The blonde goes back to watching all the people dance, and Road can see that her eyes linger on Tyki (family) for a moment before going back to scanning the crowd. Road smirks, but covers it up by turning it into a sweet smile (sweet like candy).

She asks the blonde if she would like to take a walk through the garden with her. Elizabeth looks startled for a moment (is this proper etiquette?), but eventually agrees. The Kamelots do have a lovely garden (and maybe she can discover what makes this family wrong).

They quietly leave the ballroom, taking care not to be seen (they should be socializing and dancing). They reach the garden quickly, and Elizabeth has to admit that it is as pretty as ever.


She is running, running, running through the forest. Branches scratch white and red lines into her arms and attempt to tear the golden hair out of her skull. Her lungs are burning. Adrenaline rushes throughout her body. Her clothes catch on some prickly bushes. She ignores the sound of her pretty dress getting ripped into ribbons. Her breathing (gasping) is loud, too loud.

She hears the high-pitched, heartless laugh of the Kamelot girl (monster).

They had just been walking through the garden. A nice garden, much nicer than the dark-haired girl next to her. Then, then, there were sharp points, and blood on her face, then running. And escaping. And laughter.

Cold laughter.

She trips over a fallen log. She hears a crack. Her head hits the ground, and some of the red, red blood on her face gets smeared across the soft decomposing leaves on the ground. Something stabs into her leg, and pain shoots through her body from that one point.

She screams that she's sorry for whatever she's done to the girl. She yells that she's sorry for spreading that rumor (what was it about again?).

But she isn't sorry. The terror and pain are like alcohol to the flame of hate in her heart towards that monster chasing her.

She pleads to be left alive and screams the question, "what have I done to deserve this?", all the while hoping that by some miracle of God the grinning child is struck dead where she stands.


Road (the Noah) stares at the screaming girl. A moment passes. Then another.

Pretty red (red like candy!) blood flows from the blonde's cheek and leg. The first wound, the one to her face, is a little more brutal than what had been intended. She had only meant to create a nice red line, enough to frighten the human before starting the game. That's what she had intended to do (or had she really?). What really happened was caused by a slight miscalculation (was it really a miscalculation?) on Road's part. The candle had flown just a little bit too much to the right, with just a little too much force. The candle had left more than just a red line; it had decided to tear off a much larger portion of the girl's skin than intended as it flew past. Nearly the entire girl's cheek had been ripped off. Oops. It must really (really) be stinging now.

As Road stares at the girl, the blonde's image changes. She now has black hair (it use to be longer). The hair is just long enough to tickle her shoulders (it use to be shorter). Her legs are what catch Road's attention. They're long and lean, but the Noah knows they have some strength in them.

There's red rings around her ankles.

Road smiles. Her long-lost doll is here. She never really got to play with her last time. They had only gotten through dress-up before they were interrupted. Well, there's no time like the present.

The first candle has already been throw at one of her legs. It has impaled itself right behind the left knee, and it isn't a very deep wound. Road will just have to fix that, won't she?

The girl is still on the ground. She is writhing, trying to get away. Road guesses that the cracking noise she heard must have been the girl breaking her leg or something. What a silly thing to do. Road kneels down next to the girl (is that hope in her eyes?) and pulls the candle out of the girl's leg, only to stab her once again in the same spot. It goes in deeper this time, more blood pouring out, but still not deep enough. Road repeats her previous stabbing motion with the candle, but with more force. Deeper, more blood, but still not enough.

Her little doll is crying now (so weak), but she is still fighting to get away. Really, it was making it difficult for Road to stab her candle through the girl's leg (how rude). The Noah quickly sends the little human's mind off into a nightmare of her own creation and continues with the stabbing.

Blood spatters Road's arms a bit, but mostly it just gushes out of the leg she's mutilating. Road has really made of mess of this (but it sure is fun). She has almost hammered the candle, previously blue but now red, all the way through the mess of flesh, muscle, blood, and bone. There's just one obstacle. The kneecap. She can't see it (too much blood and messy flesh and muscle), but she definitely knows she's hit it. Digging through the girl's leg felt similar to digging through sand littered with a few rocks and suddenly hitting the bedrock. She licks the blood off of her hands as she contemplates how to get her candle through it.

There, to the left, there's a rock. She picks it up. It's smooth, slightly smaller than her hand, and just the tiniest bit heavy. She tosses it into the air, catches it with both hands, and slams it into Lenalee's (Elizabeth's?) kneecap.

Ah, that does the trick. A satisfying crack is heard, and Road is able to push the candle through the cracks, whittling the bone away as she works. Finally, the candle hits the dirt and is shoved all the way through. Road leans back to admire her handiwork.

There is an awful lot of red (so lovely) coating the skin around the wound and the ground all around the leg. The girl's knee is pinned to the ground, effectively keeping her lying on her stomach. Some small pieces of leg bone are tossed a bit off to the side (those had been a pain to cut through). The wound is extremely messy. Bloody chunks of God-knows-what are pushed to the edges to make room for the invading candle. Road thinks it would be an ugly look for herself, but this terribly bloody leg looks great on the exorcist with that hateful Innocence around her ankles. So great, in fact, that Road decides to hammer three more candles into the girl's legs. One on the other knee and one for each foot.

After some (a lot) more blood and bone cracking (in just a short few minutes), Road thinks she's done. With the legs, that is.

Wait, no, she should destroy that Innocence around the ankles. Should have done that first actually. Oh well, fun always has taken priority before work in her mind.

She reaches for the rings that stink of blood, but before she can touch them, they disappear. She looks up at the girl's face and sees blond hair. Damn, it was just another fantasy.

Elizabeth is staring off into space, her face emotionless, tears running down her face. Oh, right. Road snaps her fingers, coated in red, and Elizabeth snaps back into reality. The blonde screams when the pain floods through her body, and her silent tears turn into sobs. She's begging now, pleading. She wants to live. Road simply smiles at her. The ball is still going on, after all.

Oh, what's this? She sees that red-haired exorcist lying where Elizabeth had been. How cute, he's glaring at her. Something's wrong (so very wrong) though. That's it! He's glaring at her with both of his eyes. The Bookman Jr. is only suppose to have one eye glaring at her. How will she fix this?

The candles floating above her head give her an idea (a great idea). She watches the flames burn (so hot), ignoring the pleas for mercy spilling from the Bookman Jr.'s lips. She grabs one of the candles, and straddles the boy. Road grabs his chin and forces his head to turn and look at her. Anymore force and his neck would snap. She holds the candle above his watery eye, point aimed directly at his pupil. She sees him tense for the impact, and she smirks.

He looks confused (but still terrified and tense) when she simply continues to hold the candle above his eye. Road turns her attention to the candle and lets go. The boy shuts his eyes tightly, but he never feels the point stab into his eye; he only hears the sound of Road laughing. A moment passes and still nothing. He keeps his eyes shut, but the wait for the impact is making him so extremely sick (a glance at his legs would send him over the edge). He dares to take a peek, to see what is happening, only for something burning to drop into his eye.

He screams, and Road finds it much more satisfying than the silence she had worked in when she was hammering through flesh, muscle, and bone. Road uses both her hands to keep the Bookman Jr.'s head from moving, and she lets her candle simply float.

The flame consuming the wick is burning brightly (quite dazzling). The fire slowly melts the wax of the candle, and soon the wax is a liquid fire. She watches it overflow from the melting top of the candle, slide down the shaft of the wax cone, and drip off of the pointed end, right into the red-head's sparkling green eye. It's quite mesmerizing, really. Fire, melt, slide, drip. Fire, melt, slide, drip.

Drip.

Scream.

Drip.

Scream.

Drip.

Delightful laughter. This is so much more fun than listening to that dreadfully boring ballroom music. Ah, but her fun is soon over when the screaming Bookman Jr.'s eye is completely covered in wax. It has cooled and is forming a barricade over his tortured eye. The hot drips aren't bothering him anymore (he's still screaming though, how nice).

The fantasy is over once more. Road lets go of the head she is holding, and Elizabeth is there with her bloody face, mutilated legs, and wax-covered eye. Her other eye is so full of tears she probably can't see anymore. She's probably close to death, too. The girl held out for a long time though. Road has to applaud her for not passing out. It makes everything so much more enjoyable for her.

But there's one more game to play, it seems. The blonde hair turns lighter and lighter until it's a dull white color. The feminine face morphs into something a bit more masculine. Road watches Elizabeth turn into someone the Noah knows very well.

Pretty, little Allen Walker.

If Road looks carefully enough, she can clearly tell that she's just imagining Allen. If she stares long enough, his white hair starts to fade back to yellow.

But she doesn't stare long enough (no need to). She notices what's missing before he even completely finishes becoming Allen. Road brings her hand up to his face and caresses it. The skin is warm. She's touching a human and it makes her giddy. It'd be so easy to just finish him off right now. No, but that would ruin the fun. She continues to stroke the face lying directly underneath her fingertips. The skin is both smoother and rougher than Allen's. It's rougher than Allen's where the normal skin is.

It's smoother than Allen's where the scar should be.

This shouldn't take long.

Road snatches another one of her candles out of the air. It's a pretty blue one, just like that time she stabbed Allen in the eye. Oh, but there won't be any stabbing this time.

She brings the point of the candle to his forehead, but before she begins working, she tries to picture his little curse perfectly in her mind. One moment. Another moment. Ah, there, she's got it. She decides to carve that little horizontal line right underneath his left eye first. It's nice and simple, just a slightly curved slash. One hand holds his head in place (not like he has the strength to move anymore); the other hand starts sculpting. She tries to do it slowly, but it's too messy like that. The skin gets tugged and peels and catches on the point. Red is slowly bleeding out of the jagged cut, and Road just decides to just do it quickly. The cut isn't perfect, a little too straight, but it's good enough. She moves the bloody point of the candle to the top left of the boy's forehead. Time for the pentagram. She slashes the candle's sharp end against his face five times, each in a different direction. The blood quickly leaks out, and she attempts to wipe it away to see how her star turned out. The blood just leaves a red streak, but it's clear enough for her to see what she's done. Not amazing, but good enough, she concludes. Allen is crying, throat too sore to scream anymore, or maybe just too tired to scream anymore. She finishes with a slash through his eye starting from the bottom point of the star and ending near his chin, curving when it reaches just a little underneath the first horizontal gash.

Allen seems to have just enough energy to scream one more time, and then he is Elizabeth once more. There's so much blood on the little human's body; she definitely doesn't have much time to live. The eyelid that isn't covered with wax seems to be having trouble staying open (well, it is slashed in half). It keeps fluttering as though Elizabeth is going to fall asleep.

Road gets up and takes one more look at all the lovely work she has done. Legs hammered into the ground, pieces of bone and muscle strewn to the side, a completely damaged eye covered in wax, a beautiful copy of Allen Walker's scar, and a crying, dying girl meet her gaze.

Well, her work here is done, isn't it? Just as she's about to leave, she hears some sort of strange noise coming from the girl. Oh! She's trying to say something. Road stands next to Elizabeth's head and leans over her to hear her better.

"What was that?"

A weak rasping sound greets Road's ears.

"Come again?"

"I..."

"Yes?"

"I hate you," the girl manages, and then passes out. She'll bleed to death any second now. Road smiles (happy, happy, happy).

"I hate you too," Road laughs, and she skips away merrily. After all, isn't that what humans do?


"A sickness known as hate. Not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ. Highly contagious. Deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the Twilight Zone. Look for it in the mirror. Look for it before the lights go out altogether." —The Twilight Zone (I Am the Night—Color Me Black)


AN: I hope you enjoyed the story. It's my first time writing anything like horror, so I hope it was somewhat okay? Reviews would be nice. What can I improve on and what am I doing well at? Ah, but try to be gentle, I'm still trying to learn to accept criticism. I always see people writing the Noah as nice dudes, and, yeah, they can be cool, but I think people leave out the violent side of them too much. That's sort of why I felt like writing this. I don't think the Noah kill random people too often (it'd surely be suspicious), but an occasional death or two probably happens. Anyway, today's lesson was: Don't spread hate. Hate is bad. Hate is messy. Hate does nothing but end in death.