Like the trash they were

Villains were not born, they said. They were created. But in this case, perhaps… this was not how villains were made. Maybe they had always been born like this. 

Nina only stopped her ruthless actions when she got tired of it. She had been stabbing her husband for an hour continuously. Even when his grunting and his frail, desperate attempts to save his life — crawling away from her despite being under the influence of whatever Nina had put in his meal—had stopped, she continued. 

Clang…

The sound of the knife falling to the floor rang softly in her ears, her shaky eyes gazing at the bloody scene beneath her. Jonathan was lying on his stomach, blood spreading underneath him. Slowly, Nina raised her bloody hands and looked at them. 

"No," she breathed, jolting away from him and falling to the floor. Her eyes dilated as she crawled away, her gaze taking in the bloody scene around her. "No."