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❪ WARNING. MENTIONS OF CHARACTER DEATH, PSYCHOPATHIC URGES, EXTENSIVE GORE, AND CHILD DEATHS . IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE MENTIONED TOPICS, CLICK OFF. ❫
As a child, Nana was born and raised as any other. She live normally, went to elementary school and did what any normal child would do. She lived almost perfectly, a happy family and happy life.
Perfection was overrated.
You'd expect this child, smiles and all, to come out happy and perfect. To become something big in life and have children of her own. You'd expect her to play with babies and worry about what she would eat after school.
Oh how wrong you'd be.
She could feel it. Her brain itching to just wrap her tiny fingers around that kids throat. The adrenaline rush of being near sharp objects. The want to hear people cry out in absolute terrifying pain. She wanted to hear it so bad she could cry and whine for it. But she never did and kept her thoughts to herself, burying her long nails into her wrists to resist the urges.
That is until the long and faithful day of fifth grade that turned the entire thing around.
She remembers the entire thing almost up to the detail in the chipped nail polish on her mother's bloody fingers.
She had killed them all. Killed every single person in her comfortable home one by one in a psychotic blur. She enjoyed every single minute of it. Watching the blood drain down her fingers and watching the bodies of her family fall to the ground with a thump.
She loved killing her younger siblings a little more than her parents. Why? They put up less of a fight.
The blood splatters all over the walls and heavy red hand prints along her shirt from the struggling made her grin excitedly.
Before anyone could arrive, she had disappeared. She left with clean clothes and a brand new identity. She held no sympathy toward the strangers who she called family. She was fine on her own without anyone in her life and lived normally with the exception of her murderous rampages which remained unsolved.
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