'Who are you?'
'......'
'Who are you?'
'......'
'Who are you?!'
Who am I? I don't know. A human? An animal? An alien? Oh, I forgot. I'm simply a person who exists in this world.
Exist... Why do I exist? What's my purpose? What is it that I deserve?
'Who are you?' A faint voice echoed throughout the vintage styled room as the girl remained seated on her knees. She was just there. Sitting and listening. She was physically there, but her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere so far away that no human would ever be able to invade it. The man again spoke, and this time, his hand approached the little girl, rage and pleasure emitting his eyes as he again asked the girl a question.
'Who are you?!' He shouted, gritting his teeth.
'I a-am...' The girl spoke, trying to answer between her slow sobs and heavy breathing, desperately trying to move in hopes of getting some air into her lungs. 'Speak' The man dressed in brown Maldives sweater and grey oversized jeans ordered. 'I am Elliott.' The girl cried out as her honey glazed skin started to lose its color. 'Elliott, the mad one.' The ferocious man replied, in a rather satisfied tone. A tone so satisfying that it gave Elliott the creeps she swore she'll never have.
'Father...' The girl, avowed as Elliott spoke, fear adamant in her ravishing blue eyes. The man, notably, her father, gave her the cold shoulder, as he slowly released his grip on her fragile Little neck. He stood up, patting himself clean, ready to leave as quickly as he appeared. Elliott slowly stood up, barely sitting down as she admired the bruises on her knees. She had a clean, heart shaped face, that imperatively displayed dirt and bruises like art in a gallery. She raised her slim, slender fingers, twirling her ash-brown hair around her index finger. 'Why, oh why?' a long sigh escaped her red cherry like lips as she rested her head on the wall behind her, making it the only thing that gave her support. Tilting her head, she began to smile, slowly turning her smile into a laugh so menacing that she began to get scared of how awful she looked, but she couldn't help it. 'God made me this way, He abandoned me in a world I cannot call my own, gave me a life I cannot call my own, and tainted my thoughts with conception I couldn't call my own..' She grinned, ruffling her hair as she continued counting the things that she disliked, the things that she despised and the things she called 'things.' For her, humans were the things she liked to play with. The love, the hate, the 'pain' gave her immense pleasure, enough for her to destroy herself for. But here she was, doing what she was best at, blaming. She recognized herself as selfish, so selfish that she was ever ready to obtain things for herself, even at the cost of someone's life.
Elliott held her inner pain to be the fault of others, caused by others. Never once had she looked into the mirror of her own soul and asked what different choices she could make, not for her own sake, but for the sake of others. In each moment she made only choices for herself and surrendered to whatever fear came her way - as cowards do. Were she in war she'd be a traitor, crying, "What else could I have done?" Should her choice be a splinter in her own finger for all eternity or to burn the world, she would see it as no choice at all... "obviously" she would burn the world.
Slowly, she tiptoed towards the door, opening it as it made an appallingly creaking sound. Scratching the back of her neck, she made her way to the attic, commonly known as her 'bedroom.' Her arm leisurely grazed across the wall as she approached the attic. Her ears could pickup vague sounds coming from downstairs. Sounds that radiated happiness. The happiness she wanted so bad to drench out of those who were owners of that joyful laughter. How bad she wanted to slit their throat in half and call it a day, how bad she wanted to make them scream, how bad she wanted them to go mad.
'What's wrong in being mad? Mad is good, and what's good should be approached before it's too late.' She hummed her thought into the thin air, knowing nobody could hear her, or most likely, refused to hear her. To her, the witch that ruled the house was a level 100 boss, the kind of boss, a noob player like her cannot defeat. The witch she mentioned earlier was none other than her very own step mother, the lady who dejected her entire existence, the sole reason of Elliott's suffering and the sole reason of her 'pleasure.'
"Oh how badly I want to destroy you" she muttered, satisfaction escalating through her entire body as she opened the door to the attic, giving a last smirk to herself before shutting the door close...