Be a part of the contest Navratri Diaries, a contest to celebrate Navratri through stories and poems and win exciting prizes!
Be a part of the contest Navratri Diaries, a contest to celebrate Navratri through stories and poems and win exciting prizes!



3 mins 3.5K 3 mins 3.5K

She ran and ran and ran. Her heart was in her mouth as she ran away from herself. She tries to run away from her soul- her emotions chastising her. From everything that defined who she was. She could not bear it- not bear to even live with what she had done. Guilt tries to creep up her heart, only before it was stopped by all those years of practice. As she ran, she cried and then she laughed. And then it was blank. No-nothing. No emotions got across. She was a mad woman on the loose. She was someone who killed their way through the crowd. Someone who would shoot a two year old in front of his mother and smile gleefully. She eventually became what no one thought would happen. It was completely unexpected. She became a psychopathic serial killer.

It all started twenty-five years ago, when she was a little child. She had no friends, although she was one of the smartest, most fun kids around. She was good at everything except one- standing up for herself. Most hated for out of jealousy for who she was, and others did not even care enough to hate. She had a few ‘pity-givers’, but that was all. Gradually, her life-filled eyes began to lose their sparkle and her lips forgot how to smile. She was one of a kind. Oppressed. Dangerous.

A few years went by. She joined the army teenage recruits and learnt how to fight. The fact that she cared less than other people made her one of the best. She was promoted in no time to be the head of an important troupe. The recruits that she led were few of those whom she had known she was when young. The very people who had laughed at her. This created an imbalance in her, and she took her chance. She embraced the growing darkness in her that had resulted due to the growing oppression she had faced. It was the truth. She was not something people noticed. She blended in with the background, only she did not realise how useful that could be… Right now, she was sick and tired. She betrayed her own people when she killed one of her recruits and handed the rest to the enemies. This was only the start.

All her life, she had been bullied. She had been called a loser and her emotions were everywhere. She was becoming crazier day by day, but there was no one to see that. All this built up emotion had to go somewhere. She wanted revenge on someone and the fury that had accumulated throughout the years, clouded her mind completely. So, her badly fed ego and her inner pool of depression blamed it on her parents. They had created her and had led to all this misery. For that they would pay…and they did. She did the unthinkable…she stabbed them in the sanctity of her own house. She looked into their love filled eyes as they fell lifeless before her, and beamed at her handiwork. She had released something free in her. Something unfathomably nefarious. She was cold blooded-maybe she always had been or maybe not. Nothing could get through to her now.

25 years later, here she was. A soulless person. Half into her senses, half out. She had lost track of who she was and what counted. It was all so simple, yet so complicated. Murders were her way to cope and cope she would. One mistake and a thousand deaths. Until the day came, where she would be sick of all this. And it did. She did the expected this time- After all, darkness destroys everything it can find and in the end, it destroys itself.

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