Kill. This word was written a hundred times over in dark glistening, red ink. This was not written by a girl or a boy, nor by a man or a woman but by hatred, fear, and pain. Such a fragile tortured soul; dark thoughts would consume the mind, swim through the body, and dig up the evil that lies deep within everyone. Such things haunt this poor soul; every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, every week, every month, of every year. These thoughts turn everyone around, into an enemy, with such darkness comes no niceties. Each night she cries herself to sleep, basking in self-loathing, praying for forgiveness. But no matter how much she prays she will never be forgiven, she can't be forgiven, so when death should mercilessly strike her down; she shall be going down to an eternity of burning in hell. She doesn't deserve a heaven!
All day sadistic thoughts would pass through her body like rumors, going from: 'I don't like them' to 'It would be funny if they got hurt' and so on until it reached the point where the dominant thought is: 'I want them dead'.
Then when the night comes, malicious nightmares occur. She can never scream- her fear must always be hidden. As in the eyes of those around her she has nothing to be in fear of, she shouldn't be sad. Her life is an act, she wakes up in bitterness yet the look of misery fades, when in contact with her family and friends, as she doesn't want people she hates muscling in on her life she doesn't want to end up with a counselor, or ignorant people thinking she's psychotic for thinking the way she does. She can't help it though; one cannot control the thoughts that occur in the brain. Presides it's their fault, they fused the hate, the raw darkness into her, they made her what she is and she knows that. All this fact does is make her hate the world and everyone in it even more.