If only this world had shown me a little more mercy. If this world showed me empathy then it wouldn’t be on fire. If it only showed me a little compassion I wouldn’t be standing in front of the fire that would destroy it.

If they showed pity, I wouldn’t be inhaling the dark, ashy smoke that was rising from the fire. I could feel the flames on my skin, burning, pinching, and cracking at it like a whip. The orange haze illuminated my face, wrapping around like a blanket.

I threw the match that decided all their fates. I threw the match that destroyed all their fates. And all of this was because they refused to even sympathize us who don’t fit into their beauty standards, so they tossed us out and left us to decay.

Not anymore.

I continued to watch the fire that burned them all from the roof. Small figures were running around, fire on them. They were ant-like to me now. I was no longer the bottom.

I almost could have regretted it, but something held me back from genuinely caring. I wiped the side of my mouth, where blood was flowing. The blood that they made seep.

Somewhere down there, the ashes of my enemies would fly high to the air. Somewhere down there tbe two-faced, damned people were screaming, crying for each other and their perfect skins being cracked.

I turned around, walking away from it. My job was done, they didn’t show me mercy, so neither did I.