Violet placed her hand over her chest, feeling the beating of her heart with a smile. Her heart was still pumping beneath the layers of skin and fat and muscle and fat, though the youth in front of her wouldn't know the feeling much longer.

Watching the girl struggle, Violet fought a smile. Comparing her latest victim to a fish out of water seemed more than fitting, almost destiny, seeing as the teenager was abducted at the beach.

The girl was despicable. Flaunting her hourglass figure, she was the same as all the girls who teased Violet through high school. She could still hear their voices and those words that cut her so. She could remember every dirty look given to her at dances and through the halls, and they had haunted her since she was a teen.

By some stroke of luck, Violet had come across someone who embodied all the torture she'd gone through in those years. And now, she wouldn't let it hurt her. Now, she had the strength to fight back against those brutal attacks.

“Why are you doing this to me?” the girl begged, as if she didn't know.

Violet felt a pang of rage, but suppressed it. She'd been broken by ice, and the girl would be killed by it. Anger was irrelevant – she only needed her own icy hatred.

Gathering up every jeer, she raised the hand she'd planted over her heart and brought its palm across the girl's face.

“Quiet.”

Without further ado, Violet pulled out her favourite knife, the one with the wooden handle stained black, polished to perfection, and embellished by a ring of rhinestones. It was more for show than for any sort of function. She had simpler knives in the kitchen for cooking, and a slick army knife for other tasks. This one, however, was her baby, and she made sure it looked presentable, especially seeing as it would be the last thing her victims would ever see.

She shoved the girl's head back into the wall, and lost control of her smile, allowing it to spread across her face like a wildfire. She laughed lightly.

“Do you think you're pretty? You like how you look?” Violet demanded. “And why shouldn't you? Who would ever want to look like poor, lumpy Violet?”

She thrust a fist into the girl's temple, revelling in the resulting whimper. Violet was usually such a pleasant person, but today, she was harsh. Today she would be cruel for all the other overweight girls like her – forced through ridicule over something they could hardly control. Today, Violet was a predator, feeding off pain she wouldn't feel, ever again.

Knife far from forgotten, she spun the tip against the girl's forehead, testing. Sound check, one two, one two. Then, with a fiercely quick motion,Violet struck, sweeping the blade horizontally across the girl's forehead. A ragged breath issued forth from the girl's mouth. A soft, barely audible, “Why?”

Violet swallowed another swell of fury – there would be none of that. That was a luxury the girl hadn't earned.

Slowly, she carved up the head like it was a block of wood. The girl went limp after the third stroke. The fourth was necessary, though, to finish a task already started.

Feeling like a gladiator of olden times, Violet took a step back, wiping the girl's forehead clear of blood. A deep red hourglass sat, sunken in the smooth forehead of the corpse.

“Still feel beautiful?” Violet asked smugly.