Hi. I exist.
(Y/n) Toga didn't have the greatest start to her life. Because of her cat-like yellow eyes, children would mock her and throw stones at her house. So she changed. She started wearing colored contacts she picked up off the street. Of course, this gave her numerous infections and such.
Things got worse when she had gotten hungry from the lack of food her parents gave her. She craved something more. Meat was such a rare delicacy to her, the most she got was normally just a stale slice of moldy bread. So in order to fix this, she began to hunt rats on the streets. She would catch them and eat them raw, savoring the taste of blood in her mouth. She soon to crave this blood like a lifeline.
Children mocked her for this, and would continue to beat her. They would treat her like the trash the Marines would throw into the harbor. Worthless. So she changed. She hid her growing obsession of the forbidden crimson liquid. She had always admired the other children. Beautiful, and without sin in the eyes of others. She wanted to be just like them.
So she changed. Again and again. She wanted to be skinny? Easy, don't eat, don't indulge yourself in the selfish pleasure of food. She wanted to look like the brunette from the construction site? She would just die her pale hair with the mud from the street gutters.
And you know what? It worked. People began to accept her. She became the town's little doll overnight. A perfect example of what a little lady should be. But... that wasn't enough. It was never enough. She felt suffocated. Alone. All she wanted was someone that could love her back for who she was. She wanted to be that special someone entirely, so she be as close to the ones she loved as possible. The desperate self loathing and obsession grew and festered for many years.
Until
One
Day...
She snapped.
Everyone breaks eventually. Especially if a Devil Fruit is involved.
-
"Toga-chan! What are you doing!?"
A man walked into a dimly lit room to find the town's little princess hunched over a mangled corpse. Red painted the walls, smearing the floor with blood. The body was twisted and broken at strange angle with bones poking through the surface of the skin. Every pore on the carcass oozed of death. Inside one of the fleshy red wounds was a pretty pink straw, that led to the lips of the town's perfect. Little. Puppet.
The very same puppet who's face had begun to drip a strange color, the very same puppet who's body began to shift into that of the body the puppet was currently draining of blood.
The very same puppet who had a stretched out smile with delicate fangs coated in red. The very same puppet who eyes were rolled back in ecstasy.
The very same puppet who had tears trickling down their face. Tears of built of resentment, and unspoken words and screams. Tears of relief, joy, and pain. The bittersweet tears of a murderer.
The tears of a girl who finally, after so many years, was free.
