CW: 2nd person, loss of identity, blood, distorted perspective

Hate. That was the first thing you felt when you awoke.

Was it waking up? Were you asleep? Or was it being born? You couldn’t remember.

You felt like there may be something more, but you didn’t actually know what that’d feel like.

But you knew what hate felt like.

Your vision didn’t make much sense. Twists of colors and gradients, the immaterial world poisoning your consciousness. The screams of the Choir, greedy for a ripe soul to claim.

A soft touch on the cheek forced you back to the material, the spirals forming your witch, your Miss.

How did you know that? This was the first time you’d seen Her, you were sure, but you knew who She was. The only thing stronger than the hate was the devotion you felt, as though you’d break the entire world for Her.

No. That was a lie. You 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 break the world for Her.

“You turned out so well.” You couldn’t hear Her words, but they were in your mind nonetheless. Painful static and reverberation, an auditory equivalent of the chaos you saw. “Not a single memory left in there, is there?”

You tried to respond, but you realized you didn’t actually know any words. Strange, given that you could hear your own thoughts and understand them, but to speak them… how did that work?

“I took those away too, don’t worry.” She smiled again, stroking your cheek, holding you.

There was something more, you realized. The colors swirled around another, on the floor, eddies dancing atop the pool of blood. The hate grew stronger, and you didn’t know why. What did you hate? What was happening? Why were you here? Why was your Miss treating you like this?

“Fucking… bitch…” The blood spoke. You blinked. “It isn’t going to work…”

“Hush, you.” Your Miss placed a hand into the blood, the eddies gathering around and into Her body, new and vibrant colors splashing across her form as the blood quieted. “A loudmouth to the end.”

She looked back to you and smiled again, a hand returning to your cheek. “It’s better this way, you know. No silly memories to hold you back. No silly protests. Just me, now. Forever. It’ll be so much better.”

A drop of the blood from her finger fell on your face, a warm slick following it as it rolled down, into the crevice of your lips. A breath, and it entered, a shockingly bitter and sour taste quickly coating your mouth. It was repulsive, it wasn’t yours, it wasn’t your Miss’, it-

Hate. You remembered what you hated. You remembered 𝘸𝘩𝘰 you hated. You seized the witch without a second thought, her face turning to shock and panic as you broke her neck without so much as a flinch. Her form went limp in your hands, and you let go, her body thudding loudly.

You fell back, splashing into the puddle of blood, and the comfort of its warmth. Was this what comfort felt like? It must be. It felt… pleasant. Warm and pleasant. Quiet. The colors had begun to calm, spiraling gently and dimly, and you thought, just maybe, it was all a dream.