Chapter Text
Ever since she was young, [y/n] had loved the sight of white stained with red. It started back in middle school. She was the school outcast, constantly bullied without really knowing why. She wasn't the smartest or the dumbest, and by her own account, she was pretty cute and friendly. But none of that seemed to matter. Her classmates disliked her, made fun of her, and went out of their way to torment her. Deep down, she knew the real reason: her mother was the school janitor, and they were poor.
Her classmates would trip her, scatter her belongings, and taunt her whenever they could. She didn't tell her mother or the teachers; her mother was always exhausted from work, and she didn’t want to cause her more trouble. So, [y/n] withdrew, trying to stay out of sight. But nothing worked. Her classmates seemed determined to make her life miserable.
Then, one fateful night, everything changed. She’d fallen asleep in the library, and when she woke, it was already dark. As she was hurrying to leave, three girls who loved picking on her spotted her. They’d stayed late for a dare but decided it would be more fun to torment her instead.
They grabbed her, dragged her into the bathroom, poured water on her, and then beat her. She screamed, begged them to stop, but they only laughed. And then, something inside her snapped. She grabbed the nearest girl's head and slammed her face into the sink. Blood splattered everywhere. The other girls froze in horror as their friend’s lifeless body fell to the floor, her wide-open eyes staring into nothing.
Before they could react, [y/n] lunged at the next girl, slamming her head against the mirror in a swift, fatal strike. The last girl tried to run, but she slipped on the blood, stumbling to the floor and dropping the mop she’d been using to beat [y/n].
[y/n] picked up the mop and beat her with it until it snapped in half. Then, gripping the sharp end, she drove it into the girl’s eye, ignoring her pleas for mercy. She kept going until the girl went silent, motionless. Only then did [y/n] stop, sinking into a corner as she stared at the bathroom floor, now painted in a beautiful, horrifying shade of red.
Her mother found her there hours later, surrounded by the bodies. In a panic, [y/n] told her everything. The bullying, the attack, and what she’d done. Without hesitation, her mother took the blame, telling the authorities that she’d killed the girls out of revenge for her daughter’s suffering.
With her mother in prison, [y/n] was taken away by her grandmother, who moved them to a distant city. But even in this new place, the memory of that night haunted her. She often dreamed of the bloodstained floor, admiring the terrible beauty of red on white.
As time passed, the dreams faded, and she tried to live a normal life, surrounding herself with cute things, making friends, and slowly forgetting that night. But in her final year of high school, when her grandmother passed away, the dreams returned.
One rainy night, she woke, heart pounding, the memory as vivid as ever. She didn’t bother changing out of her pajamas; instead, she pulled on a white raincoat and walked out into the pouring rain, letting her feet lead her.
In a dark alley, she bumped into a drunk man who began shouting at her. He grew angrier as she stared at him, her expression blank, until he threatened to beat her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a crowbar beside the trash cans. Calmly, she picked it up and swung it with brutal force. The man died instantly, his blood splattering across the ground. She watched it flow, feeling a strange euphoria, though a flicker of disappointment rose as the rain began washing it away.
That night was only the beginning of her reign of terror. No one ever suspected her. The innocent, delicate girl who always seemed so sweet. But time and again, she lured her victims into secluded places, isolating them, locking all exits, and hunting them one by one. Her rule was simple: if they survived until sunrise, they’d be free. But so far, none had seen the light of dawn.
Unbeknownst to her, her bloody work had drawn the attention of an entity known as Mr. Scarletella, a mysterious figure draped in red, who saw her victims as sacrifices to him. And now, here she was, trapped in a crimson room, bound and helpless after foolishly telling Mr. Scarletella her real name and after she tried buttering him up by lying that she likes him. She thought that if she butter him up and ask him later on to set her free, he would listen. But no. He just grabbed her, she blacked out and then she woke up on that red room alone. Speaking of, where was that guy anyway?
She gritted her teeth, refusing to cower. She was no longer human. She had become a monster, just like him. But she wouldn’t stay in this place with him forever.
TO BE CONTINUED