{{Warning: This story includes abuse, foul language, depression, and suicide. This can be triggering for some. Read at tour own risk}}

It was eleven-thirty at night.
Eve looked in the bathroom mirror, tears brimming her eyes and blurring her vision. She didn't care. She was ugly anyways- at least- that's what her boyfriend told her every day, morning, and night. Eve looked down at her blood soaked hands, which had previously been pressed against her side in attempt to stop the bleeding.

She smeared her red hands all over the once shiny glass in front of her. She sighed quietly, but her breath hitched when a loud banging erupted from from other side of the door. Eve let out gross, fear-filled sobbing. She collapsed on the floor and scurried away from the door, pressing herself against the wall.

"Get out here, bitch!" he growled from the other side. He is Eve's boyfriend. His name is Casey Stephens, not like that matters. He pounded on the door. "Open up! I wanna watch you burn!" Then the sound of the door unlocking nearly crushed the poor college girl's lungs. Casey had a key to every room in the house. Eve began her sobbing again, clawing at everything around her.

Casey licked the door off its hinges and barged in. He grabbed Eve by her curly black hair and slammed her onto the ground. He kicked her like a soccer ball out the door. "Get up, bitch." he growled as Eve coughed and quivered. She shakily stood, only to recoil from Casey's sturdy grip. "Go away." she spat, trying her best to hide the fear and pitiful agony in her breaking voice.

Casey smirked, his eyes wide and pull of blood-thirsty rage. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and ignited a flame. He grabbed Eve's face and forced her towards him, pressing the flame to her throat. Eve screamed, jerking away from him. She turned to run, but was tugged back by her hair. "Don't leave. We just barely began."

Eve sighed. "Fine. I'm yours. Do what you want." Casey seemed surprised by her sudden surrender, but he wasn't complaining.

Yet, like every villain, there is something they lack. In Casey's case. Suspicion.

He let go Eve's hair and went to pull something from his pocket. In this brief moment, Eve snatched a pocket knife off the coffee table, turned, and stabbed the small blade into Casey's stomach. Casey froze, his dark brown eyes wide with shock and agony. "Y-you didn't...."

"I did." Eve growled. She mustered all the strength she had left, pulled the knife out, then stabbed his back repeatedly. She threw him on the ground and stepped on his neck. "And you're my bitch now." She could hear his whimpering. "Doesn't feel so good, now does it?" she backed away, sticking the knife in her pocket.

Eve rushed to the kitchen and opened a drawer. She grabbed some matches and a small piece of sandpaper. She hurried to the garage and grabbed some gasoline. She walked back to the living room and saw Casey hunched over in agony. She smirked and walked over to him. She dunked some gasoline on him, lit a match, and dropped in. Immediately​, he lit into flames, screaming. She poured the foul smelling liquid around, dropping more lit matches on the ground.

Eve grabbed a few things before walking out of the house. Once she was far enough to the point she couldn't hear Casey's screams over the sounds of the crackly fires. She turned and watched the flames flare up and the sounds of sirens sounded faintly in the near distance. She smiled widely, tears rolling down her cheeks. She lifted a pistol from the pouch she had grabbed and cocked it, pressing the gun to her temple.

"Oh, how I watch my dreams come true. I'm watching you burn with all of the crushing and unbearably traumatic memories you've stored within me. And I'm loving it."

She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.