Ever since the case closed, Isla changed. From the friendly and warming face she had, it was now burnt out to the gloomy and rainy stare. Her eyes that were once bright and full of wonder, were now something sadder; even sinister when you look deeply into her cave-like eyes. Her smile faded a long time ago, and it was removed with a fake, crooked smile. Her natural, shiny, and long locks were now shortened and ruined with dark colors. Her plump and healthy figure now looked slim and fatigued. Her stance was more intimidating and the clothes she wore made it even worse. People used to pity this woman and feel sad about their neighbors past. She hated those sympathetic eyes the most, it just showed how much she lost. They couldn't help and try to get to her, but they failed each time. Their attempts to pull her out of the evil seemed to her only as time waste. Nothing mattered for her anymore.

The dances she had before couldn't be replaced with such mere interactions with other people. The adventures she took with him couldn't outmatch the current bribes of doing something outgoing, just she could be pulled out of her home. Long and deep talks were gold to her, the kisses that tasted so sweet made all the cakes she made jealous. Even the empty bottles couldn't hide her pain, the white powder also failed, the ashy smoke only made her more addicted so she could blow her mind away from the current pain. The bedroom was the emptiest place in her house, the bathroom felt more welcomed. Her king-sized bed didn't have the meaning it used to have a long time ago, there was nothing for her to hold on to. The colorful walls were only a mask for her hidden emotions in the room. The pictures seemed to be more enlightened in the gloomy and darkened room. Her big windows only portrayed the only light. And even if it was fake to her, it still had some depth to it. The leaves outside that danced on the branches reminded how much she felt trapped, but also happy that something is alive outside. The sheets weren't white as they used to be, she changed the colors from her heavy breaths and heartbreaking tears each night she tried to fall asleep. Her demons under her bed seemed to be friendly to her after the events happened. She became her worst nightmare in those sheets when the night howled her name. The turns of her body would make the moons caress on glass windows weaker, pitying her stance.

And now that she knew that, her only escape was long hot boiling baths with lots of wine and other alcoholic drinks to pass her time. It made her giggly and sour at the same time. Her tiles would get dirty from the red wine color as she tried to walk to her mirror and sink. The towel that covered her figure seemed to care more about her appetite than her mirror. The only bittersweet stab she would get is when she would look at her reflection. When she was sober her mirror was her enemy, and even when she could be drunk her mind remembers her foe. So much so, that even a fist could be raised at the glassy-like object in front of her. She only had that one incident, and that one was enough to make her snap back into somewhat reality. As the mirror broke into pieces and cracked on the tiles, the body of this woman crouched in agony and hugged her fist. The noises were unsettling, her creaks and sobs sounded like she witnessed another murder scene. Good for her is that her house had good soundproof, so every bit of her remorse was silenced within her chambers. The blood that flew down from her fist to her arm made her squirm, and the drops from her arm to her tiles made her realize that indeed the time was ticking. And after her screams and crying, she gasped as she finally looked at the scene she made. Her wet hair that embraced her sharp face and the towel that barely stood on her body made the puppet into this dollhouse. Her once beautiful and calming bathroom looked like it came from a horror movie. Her bath was destroyed with bits of alcohol and scattered shampoo and body lotions into the tub, the shower curtains hung low and some parts even fell down to the inner tub. The vases around the bath were damaged, broken with roses torn out of their luring stances. The tiles were covered with her bullshit, and artistic pain to say. Her blood and mirror pieces around her made the cherry on the cake just right. And after she took this all in, she calmed down.

And for the first time in a long time, she had awoken. She was no longer in her imaginary place, she was back to the cruel reality. A vicious reality that still had some hope, even if it seemed fake to her, it was just enough for her beginning. As she took a deep breath, she got up from her crouch and faced herself into the broken mirror. Her glare made it’s starting point to the plans she made. After she cleaned her hand and bandaged her wounds, she went to clean her mess. After this faze she dried her hair and dressed into her nightgown and went to sleep for the first time without any issues.

The morning came, and it felt like glory to her body. As her eyes woke up her flaming eyes bore into the new starts of her life. She decided to change her environment by purchasing new furniture, paints. It was a start for her for sure. Her neighbors noticed, and they were happy that Isla had a change of heart. But, when someone actually looked into her change they would notice that hungry-eyed stare for revenge. She got social again, but only for her way to get more information on the case of her deceased lover. Power-hungry, she got to her ways of managing information. Her favorite place in the town was the old, but warm and welcoming bar that was only popular to the older people and tourists. She would hang out with the bartender for a while and drink a few drinks, and then proceed into the night's enjoyment by searching for more. She researched and dug every part of the town, every person that knew anything really about the case.

To her sad knowledge, she found out why her partner was the victim of this attack. And by the police, it seemed like it was just a random murder by one of the unknown killers in the town. She was mad by the current corruption the law had in her city. She found so much more from the locals and her lover's friends than from the police investigation. Turns out her lover had a secret hobby of being an archeologist and working for some hidden company that wanted to seek the truth to all museum objects and piece all together with the knowledge the system is hiding. Enraged by her lover's doings without her knowing, she decided to locate the person who killed him. The life she had before seemed to be a lie for her! Her lover Fredrick wasn't a creative and adventurous writer, he was a fox hiding into the shadows lurking for new opportunities. His obsession and crazed mind for theories and Illuminati and the government was his true identity. Yes, she was angry and mad at him for not telling her, but she did forgive the ones who were dead. She did find out how much he cared for her at the end of the day, by telling sappy stories to his friends while in the bar drinking at the end of his shift.

It seemed to her, that he did find out something, but tried to hide that from everyone. Like he was protecting from evil. Before she knew it, she started to sound just like her love for crazy theories. Best of the best, his shadows now covered her face. Midnight whispering to her ear made her body tingle in delight. The white wine she had for a drink made her more upbeat, and somehow scarier. Her pace was uneven like a predator's walk towards it’s prey. The prize was close to her fingertips to touch, and scratch. The muffled pleas seem to be closer with each step. The empty hollow streets seemed to blend with her shape and encourage her cravings. The more steps she took, she was nearing her happy ending.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A woman's body walked slowly to an abandoned building, and camouflaged with the darkness. The mud and scraps of tile engraved the scenery, with all the broken windows and graphic art on the walls seemed like a place for a gang to hang out. It was perfect for her, too perfect to do her deed. And once she entered the room she wanted to be in, her fiery eyes glowed more into the moonlight with such a pleasing state of mind. Her torture seemed to calm her nerves and unravel her hidden talents. The bastard fool tried to move and escape from the tight ropes and hard mouth stuffing, but nothing worked out for him in the end. She smirked at him, and roughly put his stuffing out of his mouth, hurting some of his teeth along with his jaw. He glared at the woman and tried to spit on her, but she moved away at his egoistic attempt to fight with her. He was aggressive and pissed at the woman, but somewhat amused that she had the strength to kidnap him. He tried to bribe her into his team to work into the battles of other mafias, but she bitterly declined. He noticed that he hit the mark on her, and tried, even more, to piss her off, well just because of the male pride. She, without any patience more, sprung a fist into his face. She damaged his beautiful mafia face, and her bones, but was pleased when he coughed up some blood. Now he knew he didn't want to mess with her since he knew if he'd push he'd die early. The moment she started to interrogate him, he was shocked that this woman was Fredrick's lover. He laughed at her tries to find out what happened.

"I can see why you two are a match! Who would have thought that the lovely, and shy woman of the town was actually sinister as her lover?" Provoked the kidnapped man, the murderer.

"Says the guy that murdered hundreds of people for money and for hiding the truth to others." Said back Isla.

"Oh please darling, it's a job! You don't mix emotions with work!" Roared back the murderer.

"And for who are you working for? Care to explain to me, Jack what does your organization do?" Asked Isla getting pissed by each second.

"A woman doesn't scare me, and if I'd tell you you still wouldn't get the closure you were looking for. Because my reality is everyone's reality...I can change it the way you won't understand." Said confidently Jack.

"And why do you think so?" She asked again.

"Your reality isn't a reality. It's your lovers, Fredrick must have really burned into your brain. Must be exhausting to lose your own game." Jack smirked back at the woman.

She stared back in shock, unable to remake those words and spit back to this ugly man.

"You couldn't take the blame, and you're sick with shame after you found out what Fredrick did behind your back. And instead of moving forward and accepting that he never loved you, you purposely fell under his sick spell. You're not even yourself, you are just his puppet, the way he wanted you to be in the first place." Jack then added,

"And instead of remembering the bad days, you only wallowed in pain for the good days...But we both know he was the sickest bastard of all of us together. He groomed you into something you are not, he lied to his friends his deepest works, worked for the wrong organization, or as you say "Mafia", beat you when he was displeased with his research...Should I continue and remind you what this horrible man did or are you going to escape reality and suffer more?" Ended Jack with his speech.

His eyes beamed into her skin. Every glance looked at her figure made him more sure of his sayings. She had marks and bruises she couldn't hide. Her tiring lines under her eyes just showed how much she suffered from Fredrick's twisted mind. And at this moment Jack felt pity for the woman and wanted to help her start her life again, the way she should. But at the same time, he doubted that it would work, because her dead eyes revealed blood-thirsty hunger for an unending end.

"I can help you miss Isla, but it's up to you what you want. If you want this torture to end start it with me, but if you seek more blood reek then go ahead and kill me for your sake to calm down for a while. I don't fear death, I knew sooner or later someone would catch me and kill me for my doings." Said Jack hoping he could get into her haunted mind.

"Why would you go so far to help me? How should I know if you actually mean good? What if you try to manipulate me into something that's the even greater evil? There is no your or mines reality...There is just one." Said Isla carefully.

"Because the moment you looked at Fredrick you died, you never once were you...You were a made-up doll for him to satisfy. You have talent Isla, Fredrick was scared of it, and tried to manipulate you in his own game and turn you into a dead star to which he won. And as for reality, we both know, you are lying at this point because there will be always "your reality" when you still attach to Fredrick's game." Said Jack back to her, trying to pull her to the truth for the last time.

Isla didn't speak after she heard his words. And for some uncertain reason, her heart started to skip a beat, but she was unsure for what. Was it for Jack's soft words of encouragement or this situation she created where a human is as useless she makes them be...? And if she listened to her heart more she would free the rebel hero, but her clogged mind with anger, rage, and war decided before the heart could. And the second her eyes flashed a new emotion in front of Jack, he sighed and put his head low. He lost her, but in his pride, he tried to speak up again before the end.

"Ignorance is your new best friend?" Asked Jack, mocking her by chuckling.

He wanted to make her snap at least and take it all out on him. Because in the end he wasn't a goody to shoes, and if he couldn't make her into a good person, he could make her into the best antogonist. Instead of her using her talent for the good she would use it for evil, and sometimes a man has to accept that bad...isn't so bad. As Jack laughed more, Isla decided to grab her axe and finish the job before the morning sun hits. Every sound ticked and echoed into this abyss, and Jack was ready for his entrance for hell. The moment the silver blade swung, he closed his eyes and smiled for Isla. The sudden and strong upbeat made the blade heavier and harsh to the impact of the neck. Few sudden and new sounds roamed the room, and a unfamilliar fresh scent went through her nose. The smell of unholy spice that every person holds made her imagination flow. Even the scenery made her excited by seeing the glory of her handwork and gore she had to witness yet again in her life. The lifeless body that was in front of her stayed in it’s place accepting the faith she chose. Her laugh echoed the walls inside the empty building, and the night leaked away into the new beginning of her bloodbath and glory of the unholy. The day was no longer a part of her, for what she now knew was only the mysterious and craving darkness. The scary, gloomy and uneasy fear to everyone, the nightmare. She became her own past, her worst fear. Where the talent dies but rises as the undead - The death of the Star.