Part 1

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Seventeen. She can't handle everything thrown at her. So what is an emotionally unstable, psychologically unstable woman do with herself after everyone has turned on her? She sends Karma to hurt the ones who hurt her. But Karma takes a role in me as a person. I can't function without it, and it can't function without me empowering it to do the job. Now, Karma will be a woman, for I am, too. She is looking for her first victim, and she feels she has spotted one. But, wait, he's nice to her now, right? Or does it matter? Not to her. It doesn't matter anymore. She walks to him and her heart stops when he turns around, and stares at her in undying rigid fear. He looks at her in a trancelike state, and sits like he's expecting it. She pulls out the knife she kept in her hoodie's pocket and traces it over his face in a too-wide smile. He gasps and his whole body is rigid, tears streaming down his face. "Why are you doing this?" he says. She declines an answer, just sits there and traces his features with the blade with a manic smile on her face. She gets to his Adam's apple and pushes a little, making him whimper. She lets out a giggle that turns into a maniacal laugh, making him shiver and she loves that he was finally terrified. He should be. He had made her scared of everything all those years and she didn't want to handle it anymore. She took off her hoodie and laid it on his bed, taking off the cover-up sleeves along with it. She stood there, her arms riddled with scratches, gashes, and stitches. He looked at her arms wide-eyed and looked into her eyes, and she could tell he was crying. She almost let her guard down, but never again would she allow that. He had caused her too much pain. She made him look her in the eyes as she traced the knife about his neck. She pushed down yet again, but this time, she broke skin. She looked at the knife in amazement, and licked the blood off. He looked at her wide-eyed in paralyzing fear. It tasted so good to her, and she looked at the wound on his neck with a sick hunger. Putting the knife to his neck again, she cuts longer, deeper, until she sees the life drain slowly from his eyes. She looks at the empty, limp body on the floor and smiles that maniacal smile. She looks at her knife, drenched in his coppery, thick blood, and licks it off slowly. She picks up her hoodie and looks at the large bloodstain on it. She doesn't care. She walks out of the house, walking past the dead bodies of the rest of his family. Walking out the door, she slowly sings the lyrics to Dollhouse; "D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E I see things that nobody else sees..."

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