How unnerving it was! To look at him and feel all those emotions come back to you while all he did was slept. An eternal sleep. From which there is no turning point.

Few moments ago, she was still that naïve girl everyone believed her to be. But what was she now? No one answered that. Because the only person who could answer was lying lifelessly in front of her. Of course, it was her doing. Her art. So then, she presumed, this was how it felt to have bloods on her hand.

That jerk deserved to die, after all. For what he had made out of her and her mother. how much he had influenced her throughout her whole life. For how he molded her into a completely different version just to satisfy his needs. His fantasy.

He deserved to die for what harm he did to her mother. Self-defense was her oasis. But when stated loudly it sounded implausible to her herself. Maybe after all, she didn't need a reason. Maybe she didn't want a reason. Maybe because she never asked her the reason behind it. Maybe it was out of rage. But that were all maybes.

It is done. It is done. She chanted it like a mantra. Her legs gave up. She lost her courage. It was finally all settled. Everything was supposed to be good after it. No not good, better. But she didn't feel like it. It didn't feel better.

It was supposed to be black and white. But now that it was committed there seemed to be a lot of gray area. So much that it was getting harder for her to ignore it.

She was too weak to ask herself for a reason or purpose. Maybe life wasn't about finding purpose. Maybe it didn't matter if one believed in nihilism or existentialism. For all she knew, it was done and that she had to live with it.

These were after all only afterthought on which she might shed light at one point of her useless life. And that moment was now. Waiting for Ezra it felt the same like it did few moments before that accident. Not accident. She knew what was to come out of it. Yet she chose it. Yes. She chose it.

It was never something she had to oblige to, it was a choice which she made. Maybe in some other parallel world she didn't commit it and continued to live her life as a shadow. Existing but forgotten. Rotting in background with no one to notice.

"Hello?" Ezra snapped his fingers in front of her. For a moment everything else was blurred for herself and her forlorn thoughts. "Y-yes, sorry, just got a little distracted." She excused herself.

"Of course, you are?" he claimed. "How much progress did you make?" she quired. They had to get it done, before things turned out sour and dire.

"Listen, I am trying. But it is not that easy. We still have a long way." Somehow his words didn't quite match his expression. He is always hungry, that much is already known to her. Always in search of a purpose to guide him. This was the exact reason she chose him over the sadist.

The sadist as in Andres is a psychopath, everyone is convinced. But through her eyes, he wasn't. Because once she was in the exact same position to know that. How sick it makes one feel, how small. So, she did one thing- not underestimate him.

Meanwhile the person sitting across her was trying to read the expression on her face, might even have succeeded in some other alternative universe. All the time, she had learned how to keep her emotions under control.

She looked down, bloods on her hand. Not today. Not this time. She wiped it off. "What is left to do?" she demanded.