Chapter 1
“Do you regret what you did to get here?”
A simple nine word sentence.
Is it so simple though?
“No.”
An even simpler answer.
But of course, nothing can ever be simple in her world.
Twirling dress, clear eyes, purple hair, an expression showing nothing.
A coat of black, blood red eyes, white hair, an expression showing way too much.
She has come to take her vengeance.
Then why does it hurt so much?
Childish happy laughter of two young hearts.
As different as the Moon and Mars.
The pretending is the worst part.
Being before her parents with her is a close second.
The only good thing that came out of this is the tears shed on the other’s shoulder.
The smiles that set the other’s heart on fire.
The bond binding unlikely acquaintances to lovers.
She loves her.
She loves her.
Loves her kind smile that sets her heart aflutter, her hair - a shining bright, her eyes - perfect mirrors of her beautiful soul, her laughter - the beauty of it ringing in her ears even after it died down,..
“Choose.”
“Yes.”
“Choose.”
“Y-“ Slap!
“No.”
She hates her.
She hates her.
Hates her manipulative smile, her dull hair, her lying eyes, her fake laughter, …
She is nothing.
She has no meaning.
No life.
Simply put - nothing.
As her sensei slays down the man who dared to abuse her her whole childhood, she thinks.
“You could always take your vengeance, y’know.”
“I could never.”
“I could…”
She is everything.
She has a purpose, a goal!
She has control.
She has power.
“I love you,” were her last words.
Right after she told her.
Pitter-patter
As blood falls — rains down — from the hole in her chest, she breaks.
Goodbye.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Her sensei breaks too.
I’m back,
She greets the two men standing before her and something she once considered home.
And I am pissed,
She finishes, the two men already taking out their weapons.
“Slow,” was the last thing the two were ever to hear.
“...”
Silence.
A judging one.
One that the bastard wouldn’t forget when he would go and burn in hell.
The end.
She stands above the bastard’s corpse.
She doesn’t move when his daughter comes in.
(It isn’t the daughter she wanted to meet. Not like she can meet that one anymore.)
She doesn’t move when she is stabbed right through her chest.
She doesn’t move.
For she is too tired and uncaring to do so.
The beginning after the end.
“Hi,” she says. Garbed in a white robe, she looks like a saint.
(To her, she always was one.)
“Hi,” she responds.
“Want to go and check this place out?” she asks, as if they were still innocent children that just found a new secret room in her father’s palace.
“Sure.”