The ward was filled with another set of woman's wails, moans and screeches, as she tried to breath inbetween contractions. She squeezed her husband's hand tightly, hearing the bones crackle and break.
The man having all the bones in his hand broken by his wife didn't make a sound. No sounds of encouragment, or words to soothe. Not a single word which could have made his wife's passing easier.
Now, hours later, he gazed down at the baby in his arms, who was busy teaching herself to blink. He didn't look at her happily. No. He had lost his wife to this mere child. He was fighting every instinct not to kill the brat right there and then.
"You are...my Sorrow. Sorrow Misteria Gallows."
* * *
At school, Sorrow was reasonably happy. She was just above normal intelligence, and got B's in most of her GCSE's. Going by the name 'Misty' for most of her childhood, she was a portrait of her mother. Dark brown, almost black hair, in a rough bob, with bright green eyes. She worked part time as a waitress in a cafe from the age of fifteen. She was always short and quirkily pretty, until the age of eighteen.
She suddenly grew six inches taller in two weeks, her skin began to become paler, and her dark brown hair changed over the span of the next year, to become bright red. And it hurt. Her boyfriend of two years, Ranni, helped her through all of this. He was like her; different. They were married at the age of eighteen and a half and twenty. An afterthought of Sorrow's; Wouldn't have worked out anyway. This was realized just about two years later, and she cried out in pain. This was first triggered on the eve of her nineteen birthday, when she told him that she was pregnant.
And so, on her nineteenth birthday, he split up with her. He accused her of cheating, of playing around, insisting the unborn wasn't his. At first, she was heartbroken. After a while, she was just disgusted.