Sarah stood at the window of that tiny apartment, just staring at her own face. She almost didn't recognize herself anymore. Same long hair, same pretty skin. People always said she looked "perfect." That word actually made her feel sick now. Perfect? Really?
If only they knew.
That face had ruined her life.
She looked down at her wrist. That small scar. Old, faded, ugly. Jade had touched her there once. Just a small flirt. He laughed at her blush. She still remembered it too clearly. Twenty minutes later, he was dead under that stupid metal pole in the college parking lot. His body looked so broken it didn't even look like a person anymore.
She hadn't even screamed that day. She just froze, and all she felt was this heavy, cold guilt choking her from the inside.
That night she knew it. This curse wasn't some legend. It was real. Every woman in her family had it. Every man that showed them desire... died. Even worse if they slept with her — they just never woke up. Some women in her family stopped loving anyone at all. Because love meant death.
She threw on her black coat because she couldn't sit there and drown in that memory again. The rain had stopped outside. Everything smelled wet and metallic. She kept her head down, hoping no one would notice her.
That little café was the only place she went lately. She slipped inside and went straight to the corner like she always did. Always hiding. She looked at the chalkboard menu even though she always ordered the same damn thing. Black coffee. No sugar. Because why should anything be sweet when her entire life tasted like ash?
Then that guy walked up. The waiter.
Way too cheerful. Dimples. Friendly eyes. Probably flirted with every girl who came in. She could already feel it, that sick vibe, when his eyes stayed on her just a little too long.
"You new here?"
She barely nodded. "Just coffee... black."
He smiled again, biting his lip like he thought he was being charming. "Someone as pretty as you should try something sweeter."
She felt her stomach twist. "Please… just coffee is fine."
But he winked. "I'll bring you something special."
And in her head she was just screaming: no, please don't do this.
She wrapped her fingers around the table edge so hard her hands hurt. Thought about getting up and running before anything happened. But deep down she knew it was already over. Once they showed interest, the curse was already awake.
The lights flickered overhead. Her breath turned shallow and sharp.
He came back toward her, still smiling, still holding the damn coffee.
And then — a loud crack, the ceiling fan just broke free. It fell so fast she barely saw it.
The blade hit him in the side of the neck. Blood everywhere. It sprayed onto the wall, onto the floor, even on her seat. He didn't even have time to scream properly. His body just convulsed, shaking, choking on blood. People were screaming. Someone yelled to call an ambulance. Someone was crying. It was chaos.
But Sarah didn't scream. She just stood slowly while her whole body trembled. She didn't do it. But it happened because of her. The curse did it for her. And somehow that felt even worse.
She walked out before anyone could even speak to her. Just walked out covered in blood and rain like it was a normal thing.
Outside, the sky had started crying again. She tried to wipe the blood off her sleeve, but her throat was tight and burning like she was about to break down again. She hated herself for being this thing that kills anyone who even tries to care.
She kept walking, head down, breathing like she was choking on air.
Then she heard a voice behind her.
"Hey… are you okay?"
She turned around too fast. And there he was. This random guy with an umbrella. Tall, fair skin, kind eyes. He looked confused but genuinely worried.
He said, "Were you in that café? I heard someone got hurt."
She immediately took a step back, heart in her throat. "Please… don't talk to me."
He looked surprised and tried to apologize, but she didn't stay to listen. She just left.
Because if he cared… he would die too.