I don't know when everything fell apart.
Maybe it was always broken.
I've always known I was flawed. That's why I buried my emotions, smothered every part of myself I couldn't stand to look at. I hid every inch of me that felt rotten, disgusting, wrong.
If people really saw me, if they truly knew me, they'd run.
They'd look at me and think I'm unlovable. Unwanted. Something to be rejected, discarded.
And I couldn't bear that.
But… why couldn't they just love me anyway?
Why couldn't they chase me, even when I shoved them away?
Even when I ignored them, pretended they didn't exist… deep down, I wanted them to chase me. To look at me like I was sunlight, warm, radiant, impossible to live without.
"Y-You bitch!"
But it wasn't me who liked them first. It never was.
They were the ones who stared first. Who smiled first. Who wanted me first.
So how… how did I end up being the one who kidnapped her?
"Shut up," I hissed through clenched teeth, tearing a piece of clothing from my dress and wrapping it around her mouth, tightening it until every desperate scream died against the adhesive.
The place reeked of rust, an abandoned factory by the river. I remember passing by it once during a trip. Back then, a filthy little thought slipped into my head, the thought of doing this, right here.
And now… it came true.
My former lover sat slumped against the cold, dusty floor, her face streaked with dirt and the faint marks of every slap I gave her.
Funny, isn't it?
It wasn't even me who fell for her first.
They always fall first.
They're always the ones whispering about how perfect I am, how they worship the ground I walk on.
Every word out of their mouths chiseled away at the image I held of myself, building me up, feeding me lies I wanted so desperately to believe.
Even when I ignored them, they'd tremble, whimper, shrink under my indifference.
It was… cute, in a way.
But no matter how much they adored me, I never felt anything.
My biggest mistake was asking her to be mine.
To her, it was probably the greatest moment of her life, her delusion coming true. But to me… it was empty. It always was.
The longer it went on, the more the cracks inside me grew.
I let myself soak in her affections, her declarations of loyalty, her desperate attempts to prove she loved me. But none of it ever felt real. Nothing ever does.
Deep down, I knew, the moment she saw the real me, she'd leave.
So I made sure I left first.
Of course, she chased me. Like the obedient little dog she was. But even dogs get tired.
Maybe this is my punishment.
Maybe the universe finally decided to turn on me to twist everything I did to her right back onto myself.
"Mmmphh!!"
Her muffled scream echoed through the empty factory, raw and desperate, but it was hopeless. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back with coarse rope, her wrists already red and chafed from struggling.
"I told you," I whispered, crouching down to her level, my voice smooth, almost gentle, "it's futile."
But as I stared at her, trembling and silenced, something inside me twisted.
This moment… it made everything clear. The question that haunted me, why I kept pushing her away, why I rejected every ounce of her affection, finally had an answer
I wasn't scared of her.
I was scared of myself.
Because I loved too much. So much that I could suffocate someone with it.
So much that they'd start to see me differently, not as the person they adored, but as something… ugly.
And then, like everyone else, they'd leave. They'd reject me.
That's why I pushed her away. That's why I couldn't let her stay close. But she kept chasing, stubborn, naive until today.
On the way here, I slipped something into her drink. She never saw it coming. She never expected it from me, the hardworking, "perfect" girl. The girl who sacrificed everything.
The girl the village sent to the city to chase a future none of them could even dream of.
The perfect, hardworking girl she once adored, always so composed, always so supportive.
How could I possibly be dangerous?
…
The sound of angry voices outside shattered the moment.
Footsteps. Shouting. Dozens of them.
I froze, my eyes darting to the factory door, my heart pounding louder than her muffled cries.
They came.
She… she knew.
"You really thought I wouldn't notice?"
Her voice, quiet, strained from behind the clothing, but her eyes… her eyes said everything.
The villagers burst in, their faces twisted with disgust, betrayal, and fury. Pitchforks, sticks, old tools gripped in their hands like some crude mob from a fairy tale.
"That's her!" someone shouted.
"Is that… the scholar?…"
"What on earth is happening?…"
"The girl was telling the truth the whole time! The scholar is insane!"
Their words sliced through me, sharp and unforgiving.
But what did they know?
They didn't see the sleepless nights, the endless work, the sacrifices.
I was the one sent away to the city, not because I was special because I had to survive.
I worked. I studied. I smiled.
I supported my family while they sat useless at home.
I held everything together… only to break apart like this.
All it took was one crack, one mistake… and everything unraveled.
All those years of perfection, wasted.
All those lies I built around myself, shattered.
I wasn't their golden girl anymore.
I was just… this.
The villagers screamed. The woman I once loved stared at me with both pity and hatred in her eyes.
And I realized… I wasn't afraid of being unloved.
I was afraid they were right about me.
The shouting blurred into a dull hum.
Hands grabbed me, pulling me away from the cold factory floor. It almost felt like everything was going to be alright.
Someone whispered, "It's over now."
For a moment, I believed them.
The next thing I remember, I was standing in the village square.
My wrists were raw, bound tightly in front of me.
The villagers' faces bled together, all melted into the same ugly, twisted expression. Their eyes were glassy. Their mouths moved, but the words didn't register at first.
They were saying my name.
Then the words... Witch, liar, curse-bringer, dripped out of their mouths like rot.
What?
What were they talking about?
I…
I only wanted to be loved.
The wood at my feet scratched my bare skin. The smell of smoke clung to the air, bitter and sharp.
My heart stuttered when I looked down and realized I was tied to a wooden post.
The fire caught faster than I thought it would.
The heat licked up my legs, searing my skin.
Screams tore out of me, raw and animalistic, but it wasn't the pain that broke me. It was the detachment.
It didn't feel real.
The faces in the crowd, blurry.
The flames, distant, like they belonged to someone else's nightmare.
The pain, sharp, but fading, like my body wasn't mine anymore.
Everything slipped away… the heat, the screams, the smoke.
Until all that was left… was cold.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
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