Notes: This story was inspired by a few pics I drew of my main original char, Janna.  The numbers on the head idea really creeped me out, and then the idea for the "Brands" came to mind.  A creepy, futuristic overly religious society.  Scary, huh? ~lol~  Anyway, these ideas are mine, and you can't have them!  Farfie and the Schwarz gang belong to the creators of Weiss, blah blah... you know the drill. ^_^; I don't own them, even if I like to pretend I do. ^_~ Ja!

Prologue

     She took a strangled breath, gulping the air as if each breath was her last.  The blood and sweat dripped down her face, stinging her eyes and obscuring her vision.  Deep red hair was plastered to her head, dampened by what They had called the 'Sacred Cleansing'.

     "Nothing sacred about it," she hissed as she stumbled over to a puddle.

One heartbeat.

     Two.

     Three... take a breath.

     She slowly leaned over to see her reflection, holding back her bangs to see the mark she'd been branded with.  She flinched and let her hair fall back into place.  Thirteen.  The worst brand of all.  A sinner, a killer... the worst one of all.

     All because she had attempted escape.  Freedom from the Nexus.

You ceased to exist the minute you tried to make contact.  Now you're a nothing... a no one...

     You ceased to exist...

     Ceased to exist...

     To exist...

     She let out a scream, scrubbing furiously at the number on her forehead.  "Get off!!  I'm not a sinner!!"

Not a sinner...

     A sinner...

     Sinner...

     "...Damn you... damn this..." she muttered to herself, dropping to her knees beside the puddle.  Then she let out a low chuckle and reached into a hidden pocket in her long leather duster.  "How could I forget about you, pretty one?" she murmured as she drew out a long switchblade.

And on the sixth day...

     The sixth day...

     God created man...

     Created man...

     And today...

     Today...

     We destroyed Him...

     Destroyed Him...

     The girl pressed the button and the blade sprung forth.  "Goodnight," she whispered softly, a smile creeping over her lips.  She brought the tip of the blade up to the side of her neck and drew it quickly across her throat.  She watched with morbid intrigue as blood sprayed out of the wound, spattering the front of her shirt and mixing with the water of the puddle, giving her reflection a reddish tint.

     But escape doesn't always come so easy...