Realization

It was sad that Cathyia was the only person in the chaos at the manor that realized Harrison deserved it. He was a terrible person, a murderer, and a monster. He deserved to die… right? Cathyia almost laughed out loud at her own thoughts. Why was she questioning herself after she already killed him?

It was close to midnight. The manor was surrounded with police attempting to get everyone to calm down. There were neighbors yelling, trying to get past the police to see what was going on. There were those who crowded in just for the chance to get a glimpse of the body. There were people standing at the back of the crowd, mourning a death, like proper folks. Cathyia had meant to leave, but she stood amongst the mourners, head down, listening in to their fears until it was too much to bear.

She turned and walked toward her flat. As Cathyia made her way home, she shook off whatever emotions she had been in place before. After all, she was also a murderer. The street she walked down was empty. The only source of light on a clear night came from the street lamps that lined the road. Behind her, she could still hear the noise of the crowd. She closed her eyes as she kept walking in an attempt to drown out the racket.

CRASH! Suddenly, something clashed against her. No, someone. Cathyia got knocked a few steps back.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry," The man tried to collect the bouquet of flowers that he dropped. "I didn't see you there! Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine." Cathyia bent down to help him pick up a few flowers.

"Thank you," he said as she handed them to him.

As she stood up to leave, the man gasped. "Ma'am, you're bleeding!"

"Hm?" She looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, her ankle was bloody. "Oh, it's nothing. I'll just wipe it off when I get home."

Despite what Cathyia said, the man continued to talk, but this time, he was talking to himself.

"The blood is already dried? But there's no wound," he looked up at her, eyes wide. "Is this- is this someone else's blood?"

Cathyia was surprised, to say the least. This man was too curious for his own good.

When she didn't answer, he picked up his flowers and got up cautiously. "It was really nice meeting you, have a good night."

As he walked past her, the sharp edge of a knife stabbed into his chest.

"You too," she said, as she pulled the weapon out of the body.

It took her minutes to realize what she just did. The man, lying lifeless in front of her, was nothing more than a bystander, only trying to get back home on an unfortunate night. He was innocent. She picked up the perfect bouquet of white roses, and imagined a girlfriend or wife who would never see him again. She didn't even know his name. Cathyia's head was spinning. She felt faint. She dropped to the ground, her knees scraped against the cement and her knife beside her. What am I doing? She thought. When she received this power, this ability to take away lives without breaking a sweat, she vowed to herself that she'd only use it for good. Yet, there she was, on the ground, with a dead man who didn't need to be killed lying next to her.

A teardrop hit the pavement. She wanted to be a good person. Someone that did the right thing, even if other people didn't understand. What did this make her? A monster, same as the people she's killed before.

She sat there for a minute, not knowing what to think, and what to do.

After a while, she got up and dragged his body towards a dark alleyway. She placed the body in the corner, wiped her fingerprints from anything on him, whispered a silent prayer, and left.

Cathyia was entirely drained when she got home. Her father was already asleep, but closing her eyes would only bring her back to what she had done. She couldn't do it anymore. Any of this killing nonsense. Was she fooling herself from the beginning? Who was she, to think that she could actually make an impact on this world? At the end of the day, she was still just another criminal.

With that last thought, she laid down in bed and stared at the blank ceiling until her eyes gave out on her.