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Anger is a deadly weapon. It can be used to cut down your enemies. It can be used to give you resolve. It can be used to give you strength. But it can also destroy you. Rage does not always explode. Sometimes it starts small and festers like an open wound, oozing beneath your armor, beneath your clothes and no one but you knows it's there. It simmers and boils within you until it consumes your very being. You forget how to smile. You forget how to laugh. You forget how to be happy. But you never forget what made you this way. It becomes an obsession, driving you to the brink of insanity, threatening all that you are. Anger is a double-edged sword and it destroys everything. Even you.

Believe me, I know. I have been consumed by it, stripped of everything that I am until there was nothing but emptiness. Chased so relentlessly, so single-mindedly that I ignored all else. There is always a high price to pay when you cling to your anger, to your rage and it is much more than most can afford. I will tell you of my life, of my story. I will tell you because you want to hear it. I will tell you because you need to hear it. My life as a child was a happy one and like any time when you are happy, things tend to fly by. I remember little of childhood but I recall my earliest memory was when I learned just what my family and I were. When I was five, my older brother threw me over the side of a small ledge that lead to the ocean and he jumped in after me.

I watched with awe as my fingers grew webs between them and my skin, already coated in a light sheen of iridescent blue changed to a deeper shade to better match the water, glinting softly in the sunlight. When we were on t he shore again, I asked my brother about what happened and he told me that we were Sirens, descendants of merpeople, evolved to walk on land. He swore me to secrecy claiming that bad people might come after us. But as a five-year-old I didn't understand the importance and I confided in a friend that I knew in the local village. Nothing ever came out of it until much later, when I was eleven years older.

It was a normal day in our house by the sea, my mother and I were working on supper and my father was sharpening his weapons before my brother came bursting in. I will never forget his face. It was filled with fear, terror that gripped him so deep that he could barely keep it together. Sweat lined his forehead and dribbled down his nose and cheeks, eyes wide. There was a moment of silence between all of us as he panted in the doorway.

"They're coming." He whispered with horror to my parents.

That was the only thing he said and my father rushed to the back and shoved a dresser over to the side, nearly toppling it, to reveal a trap door. I was rushed in and my mother ordered me that regardless of what I hear and what I see not to scream, not to move, not to make a sound. The door was kicked in after that and my brother barely had enough time to recover the trap door while my father went to stall them.

My mother's screams of agony filled the house and I sat there beneath the floor boards, lighting shining through the cracks and biting my lip bloody so I wouldn't sob. I heard my father swear and scream in anger and heard his thundering footsteps as he charged. My brother followed behind my father, roaring in fury before the air was filled with the distinct sound of blades slicing through flesh.

There were two thuds, clearly the sound of their bodies hitting the floor. Through the slats between the wooden boards I could see that there were men, armed with swords and axes but were clearly not from any army or guard order. When the blood began to flow through the wood and fall on me, I clutched my hands to my mouth to stifle the terrified sob that nearly escaped.

"Mr. Salzor, there's no one else in the house, sir."

"Hm? You sure? That girl in town said they had a daughter named Yaelee." An oily voice said.

"I know. She did say that they were childhood friends, but there's no one else in the house, sir. It's possible they had her run, her brother did see us after all."

My blood turned to ice. My best friend, the one I had confided in when I found out what I was, betrayed me. Betrayed my entire family and caused their death. But then again, so did I for saying anything in the first place.

"How amusing that she would betray her best friend for some money. Don't worry about the last one, just collect as much blood as you can. I have some clients that are eager to dish out the money for it."

Black market traders. I had heard of the rumors that circulated about how Siren blood could grant immunity to all diseases to any who drink it. In truth, it only grants resistance to the more common ailments. And my best friend, Beatrice sold us out for money. I sat beneath the house, letting blood cover me for what seemed like an age. I waited long after the mercenaries left with the black market seller and when I felt that it was safe, I crawled out from under the house.

The sight of my family's bodies, all laying on the stained red wood, made me break down. I fell to my knees, feeling the splinters dig at my skin and I cried. For hours I sat there, cradling their corpses as if there was some hope in me that if I held them long enough, they would open their eyes and we could go back to the way things were. They never did. And when the moon had risen high into the sky, I gathered up my belongings, what little money we had and I set out, not even bothering to change. Beatrice needed to see just what she had done.

Before I went into town, I placed my families bodies in a small boat that we had and set flowers on their chests. After that, I pushed the boat out into the water so that they may return to the sea where we originated. When I could no longer bear to watch them drift away, I ran all the way to town and to Beatrice's back door. When the door opened, she stared with wide, horrified eyes.

"Yaelee I-"

She never got the chance to finish her sentence for I slapped her so hard that she careened into the door frame. I was angry, livid, hurt and betrayed. Everything that I cared for was gone and it was all because of her, because she wanted some money. My silver eyes were lashing with rage and she could see it as plainly as the red mark that would bruise on her face.

"You..." I hissed in a furious whisper, "You b***h! You betrayed me, betrayed us. Now they're all dead because of you! Are you happy? Was a little bit of money worth it?"

"Yaelee, we were starving, father is dying and we don't have the money. I-I'm so sorry, I-"

"DON'T" I snarled harshly, "Act like you care. You lost that right the moment you sold us out the black market traders."

Her jaw dropped and it suddenly became clear that she had no idea who those men were. And I didn't care. She caused my family's death and I felt my heart harden as she began to sob out apologies but not one of her words would bring back my parents and brother or make up for what she had done. I shoved her down so she fell to the floor, crying and hiccuping. When I could no longer stand the sight of her, I turned and began to walk away.

"Beatrice?"

"Y-yes?"

I never turned around to look at her when I said, "I hope your father dies. Then maybe you can understand what you have just done to me."

Those were the last words I spoke to my best friend. I wish I had never said them. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully forgive her, but I want to take those words back. No one should ever have to lose their parents at such a young age and I still can't believe that I ever wished for something so terrible to happen. No one deserves that. That night I left my home and never looked back. I didn't know where I was going and for several days, I didn't care.

That was crazy...and awesome at the same time! I loved it, I don't know what else to say. There's not much else to say....just keep writing. smile