The people screaming rung throughly through my ears, piercing me with the reminder of the blood on my hands.

_I am no better than him_, I thought.

I forced myself to leave the scene, where a man was killed and I was the killer.

Thankfully my mask hid my identity, but it did not hide the truth that I was a villain.

_But the man did cruel, horrible things! It was self-defense, _my head told me.

_No one deserves death_, my heart argued back.

I was a mess, a running mess, as tears poured from my eyes, escaping straight to the woods.

Birds sang as I wept, flowers fluttered and I shuttered with the feeling of self-hate.

How could’ve I killed that man?

“Self-loathing will not save the dead man,” Draven said, his voice softer than I could’ve imagined it to be.

The villain stood right beside me.

I looked up to him, his beauty a trap.

I bowed my head in shame. “He didn’t deserve to—“

“You can’t be serious, Elspeth! That man tried to kill you! You’d rather you be dead than him?” Draven shouted, rage simmering in his tone.

“I am no villain,” I said.

“You are not a villain for saving yourself,” Draven replied.

I sat with his words. Would it be so evil of me to agree with him?

_Yes_, my head answered.

_No_, my heart sang.