Shadows lined the under-skin of her eyes, making them appear darker than they were. Her hair was uncombed and filthy, separated by the grime into sections, several of which hung in her face. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably in her lap, and her heart pounded and spread the blood through her veins. She could feel that the time was near.

She wanted it. She desired it. And she’d kill to get it.

Feeling the itch in her fingers to squeeze, to tear, to pull and rip and destroy, she crept quietly out of the darkness. Her attack was swift and quiet, giving no alarm or panic. A moment passed and she returned to her shadows, so well suited to her eyes and soul. Blackness spread through her surroundings, and then all that was seen were her dark eyes, glittering silently in the abyss.

It is mine, she thought, and felt it burn like a brand onto her heart.