Any normal person wouldn't sleep for days, weeks, months, years even. Any normal person wouldn't be able to complete simple day-to-day activities without the haunting image of rotting bodies engraved into their corrupted minds. Any normal person wouldn't kill in the first case, no matter the circumstances. In what circumstance would you bash someone's skull into mushy smithereens and come out being the victim?

Talyia wasn't a normal person. It would be an understatement to say she was far from perfect. Talyia is part of the minority who swung her metal bat first- and who didn't stop swinging after the first blow. Not when she started screaming, not when she stopped screaming. Talyia didn't stop when she noticed the scarlet teardrops gushing from different angles of her fractured face. She didn't stop when she heard the crackling of her skull or even the crimson massacred remains of what held her thoughts and memories.

The murder wasn't even the worst part. She swung in a room full of people, more importantly, her family and didn't feel a thing doing so.

Blood stained her face, loved ones looking at her warily as she stared back at them menacingly. “This is who I am, and there is no need to be afraid,” she said, stepping forward, “At least not anymore.”

She looked at her mother, whose eyes were glued shut in denial, “What- What have you done?” Her mother stuttered, shaking her head over and over again.

“I did what I had to do,” Talyia responded, “I did this for everyone. I did this for you.”

“What you had to do?” Talyia's father interrupted, “You- you…”

The bloody girl held up her dented bat in the air, “Go on, say it! WHAT AM I?”

Three masked men stood at the door entry, guns loaded and a fresh pair of handcuffs at the ready.

“A Monster,” Her sweet mother responded, the glint of innocence and love in her eyes was now replaced with hatred, “You’re a sick, psychotic monster.”

Talyias face dropped. Reality all gushed in at once, the bat, the crunchy bones, the blood and the crimson teardrops streaming down her own face. But most importantly, the decapitated corpse of her sister lying on the floor.

“He made me do it, mommy… It wasn't me!” Talyia started to plead helplessly, “I’m sorry, I will never do it again! Never!”

“No. Nothing you say can save you from this Talyia, you’re sick and you always will be. As long as you’re locked away nobody else will suffer.”

You’d think the disappointed words of a mother were enough to change you. Unfortunately, Talyia’s mother's words only fueled her fire and turned her regret back to rage.

“You’re right, nothing I say will save me, there's nothing you can do to save me. I'm powerful and I always will be feared by people like you, but If you cannot accept me for who I am then I must pay back the same respect.”

Whenever Talyia got angry she would lose herself. Her heart would crumple into ashes, her hands would become mechanical, and her eyes would be seen through another pair, the devils.

This time she sealed the deal in ruby ink.

Blood stained her face, loved ones' bodies all spread out at different angles on the stained carpet and looked at her with vacant expression as she stared back at them menacingly. She repeated,

“This is who I am, and there is every need to be afraid.”