𝔸𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕤𝕠𝕟

𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕪;

She gripped the blade, she breathed out. She had done it, she didn't know how she felt about it. Or what she should be feeling at all really. Ever since Y/n lost her sister she hadn't felt much, but driving that blade into the older mans shoulder felt good. The blood glistened as it dripped down the five inch dagger. Her ideal weapon of choice. Trail and Error made her realize she worked better with it anyways.

She wiped the red liquid off on her pants, and while the man rested on his knees, pleading for his life, she laughed. "You know that won't work," her voice was rasp, firm, and stern. "How well did that work for all those girls?" she asked, squatting down to reach his eyes. The life lingered in them, sadly.

"Just- pleas-please I have a daughter," he begged, she let out an evil laugh.

"There is no mercy for the wicked, and I fear more for your daughter with you alive than dead," she paused. "So dead it is," she smirked. She took hold of the dagger and sinked into him, he jolt for a second, his head against her shoulder, she moved the slumped over man off of her. She gathered her things and left.

Truth be told Y/n had no intent of killing him, no intent of taking a life, though it contained no value there wasn't a solid plan, but she had just murdered a man. Worse than that, she hadn't regretted it.

She opened the door to her black challenger, slipping inside, her cold breath leaving a trace. Her forehead rested against the steering wheel for a second, her breathes heavy, her chest heaving up and down in search for some remorse, was she even human? She had just killed a man and didn't bat an eye.

He deserved it she settled, he was a rapist, he raped and killed her sister after all. He deserved this, and with that she turned the key, and drove off. The night as dark as her heart in this moment.

That was her first, and there were many, many, many more after that.