Crazy. Psycho. Freak. Those are just a few of the words people have used to label me my whole life. I don't understand society's obsession with having to label everything and everyone, but alas, such is life. Not like it isn't true; I am crazy, a product of two screw ups who made sure I turned out as messed up as they are. What they weren't expecting is how much worse I'd be. Once I became too much for them to handle, they threw me to the wolves without a second thought. It was then I found Carnaval de la Mort. They became my family, aiding me and all of my personalities in a way no one had dared to before. They loved me and accepted me for me, even the ones who claimed not to have a heart. Brooks wasn't part of the show, but after the first night I saw him in the audience during one of my salacious, death-defying acts, I began seeing him show up more and more. Each time he tried to get closer, tried worming his way into my calloused heart, and each time I warned him a crazy broad like me doesn't fall in love. Pity he couldn't listen. He was much too pretty to die.