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I.

Loneliness was always a part of her life. It was a sort of emptiness she learned to live with, one she accepted without a single complaint. She had no purpose in life other than to survive, but even that meant absolutely nothing. From the moment she was able to walk with her own two feet, she knew how to fend for herself by whatever means necessary. She stole food, money, and clothing and killed whoever dared to get in her way. Their age or gender didn't matter--in the end, everyone was nothing more than an annoyance to her.

The only affection she had ever experienced was lust. From childhood to young adulthood, she had felt the touch of countless men she never bothered to remember. Some tried to be gentle with her and caressed her skin with such care, taking time to utter sweet nothings into her ear as they thrusted against her. Others were rough, their grip tightening against her skin as they spewed vulgarities with the sole purpose of using her just to satisfy their sexual desires. The pain was only temporary. It was another thing she was used to.

This was the life her mother threw her into. A mother who yelled at her day in and day out, whipping her no matter how deafening her screams were, selling her off the minute the chance arose.  An unwanted, nameless child had no right to complain about it.

My mother did noting more than raise me the best way she knew.

II.

The first mistake was placing her trust in a girl from the brothel. She was about the same age with dark blue eyes. Almost immediately the blue-eyed girl gives her a nickname based off her eye color--Rose. Hearing it was strange at first. She was used to being called 'you', 'girl', 'brat', anything but an actual name. It was nice to finally have one. In turn, Rose gave the girl a name too.

Rose and Indigo. Names that were theirs and theirs alone.

The two continued to talk on and off, making small talk about their day while making sure the owners didn't catch them interacting. One day, Indigo suggested to steal as much money as they could from the brothel owners and make their escape. Rose went along with it. After all, she and Indigo were a team. They were unstoppable. When they reach the river on the other side of town, she sees a patron that spent all his time with Indigo. That's when it hits her--as much as she hoped to go with them, they were going to kill her. Indigo was just using her.

"No hard feelings, Rose," she said as she gave that same smile she had seen many times. If the owners hadn't captured her then, Indigo and her partner would have killed her. She couldn't bring herself to hate her though. After all, it was her own fault for being so foolish. Had things been different, however, the two of them would be nothing but corpses rotting along the river.

---

The second was living with a patron at the brothel. She could've killed him right where he stood, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. The reason for hesitation plagued her endlessly. Was it because she wanted the same kind of protection that Indigo had back then? Though she entertained the thought at one point, she knew better than to go along with it. After all, people lie and betray one another. She was better off protecting herself.

But she stayed with him nonetheless. Their seemingly happy lifestyle didn't last long. Of course it wouldn't. She ended up contracting a deadly and contagious disease, chasing him off. he later tried to sell her off like the idiot he was. When she cut off his head, she noticed his final expression wasn't one of horror but of bewilderment.

From then on, she would kill anyone without mercy. No second chances, no reason to hear their cries or pleas. Complete strangers, family, children, and the elderly--no one was safe from her rampage. She would cut off heads and limbs, slice them into pieces, or simply break their necks, but she would always make sure to make it quick. She had done it so much to the point that she lost count, And yet, she cared very little to keep track to begin with. Truth be told, she never thought much about it. Each kill was done on reflex.

There was always someone who dared to ask: "Why do you do it?"

She would ponder on the question after killing them. Why indeed? For money and food? To keep the survivors from hunting her down and killing her? To express her hatred towards the world that had forsaken her from the very beginning?

Maybe I kill to find out why.

III.

It didn't take long for the news of her merciless killings to spread. Soon, everyone was on the hunt for the 'witch with eyes of rose'. If only her condition wasn't worsening because of the disease. It rendered her unable to fight the sudden ambush of soldiers. 

She was condemned to be lashed, a strike for every life she took. Though her skin was left split and bloodied, all she felt was a sort of dullness and nothing more. The punishment reminded her of her mother. She could only scoff at the memory.

There were five other girls jailed in the bastille with her. One by one, they'd drop dead. The last girl was in the same cell as her, asserting that 'what we did was right'. This girl had a sense of justice that couldn't be wavered whatsoever, the complete opposite of the chaos and death she brought up on world. Even so, she was right. Who else is going to kill the rich and the wealthy? Who else was going to get rid of the corruption that controls the world?

When the girl asks who she is, she nearly laughs. She's nothing. She's never had anything, no name, no family, no lover--Absolutely nothing. Anything that she had was eventually taken away and rendered meaningless. She had no purpose. She never did. As soon as she gave her answer, the girl gave her final breath.

"What we did was right."

Anger erupted within her the moment the realization dawned on her.

She detested this world and everyone in it. She always did.

Blood immediately rose up her throat, causing her to spat it onto the floor. Her vision started to blur as coldness enveloped her body. Her screams refused to come out, silenced by the blood that continued to spill from her mouth. Her illness finally caught up with her.

As she writhed in pain, she noticed a rose-colored flower growing in front of her. When did it get there? Was this a flower that was part of the real world or of Paradise?

She would've laughed at the latter if she could. What would Heaven want to do with someone like her? She couldn't take her eyes off the flower though. She wanted to touch it. She wished that she could have received a flower as pretty as this one.

The last thing she saw were rose-colored petals wrapped around her.

Fuck the world! Fuck you all! YOU fucking die!