There were cuts and bruises. Some from brutal fights, which were beyond the ability for most to stomach. Some were self-inflicted during down times, with nothing else to distract from the pain. The strong need for ...something. Something that was just beyond conscious grasp.
Nobody could see these scars. They weren't allowed to. Even if they caught a glimpse, it would be gone with the dawn. Sunlight healed them and the night hid them. These scars were private. Something personal to fill the need of something unnamed. They belonged to her and only her. The fights were a rush, with the scars as proof of life.
One night the opponents too many and the injuries were too too deep. Proof of life turned into the messenger of death. She could see the grim reaper leaning over her, as she sat bleeding out. A hood with no face and stars for eyes. Or so she thought. A vaporous creature of myth leaned leaned over her. Perhaps no more than dying phantom conjured by her brain.
It seemed curious though, the way it reached for her. There was no physical movement without a real body. But the impression was in her mind. It left no doubt as the world faded out. Curiosity and a sense of completeness inside her.
The girl woke up blinking. She hardly needed sleep anymore. But when she did there were always dreams of stars and space. A dream of her past though - her old human past - that had never happened before.