Some people wonder why Singa is asexual. It's pretty clear- she

makes it obvious that she despises any act of love

and she pretty much considers doing 'it' satanic. She would

always glare at anyone who says the word, 'Love' out loud.

Everyone know that she hates any mention of it.

But no one knows why.

She was left to go slowly insane from the torture, to plead for mercy alone, to die in complete isolation.

Some people think it's because of the times Francois

raped her (actually, he never did). Or maybe some random human lover abandoned her.

But that's not the case. It was way more complicated.

It was not just some simple case of someone abandoning her, or raping her

or even purposely harming someone she was close to.

Her asexuality is not to be taken lightly.

Because of one reason, and one reason only. Because of him.

Some people think it's because of all the betrayals she had to face,

all the people she had to leave, had gotten her into depression, and,

finally, asexuality.

That's a bit closer to the true reason.

But not yet.

All because of that one man who betrayed her. Everything, her asexuality, her great change in personality,

all because of him.

Some people can forgive and forget. She used to be this type of person. She wasn't very

careful about her friends. She used to be

the girl who hummed happily while skipping along the beach, listening

to the rhythmic pounding of the waves.

But some people leave, and with that, they leave a scar.

Because of him, she could be heard yelling from her prison cell every day, "I hate you! I hate you!"

The loneliest people are the kindest.

The saddest people smile the brightest.

The most damaged people are the wisest.

Then what are the people who have been betrayed one too many times?

Unforgiving.

She had one, long scar down her back that skimmed her backbone. It had always hurt when someone touched her back.

It still does.

So this is what she became, after all the betrayals. She saw people leave her in

the dust, like trash, like the couldn't care less about

what happened to her. She saw people she thought was a friend strike her

and kill the ones she had come to like.

She might be a new nation.

But she was the youngest to experience such pain.

Everyday, no matter what, at midnight, she would curl up in a ball and cry. And when it was thirty minutes passed,

she would shout, "I hate you! I've never hated anyone more than you!"

She all three of the categories. She was lonely. She was sad. She was damaged.

But most of all, she was hurt. She would cry and cry and cry every

night, every morning, every time the whip from

her former brother's hands struck the scar.

'If it was all because of him, all of it, then how can I still forgive him? I'm like this, so insane,

so damaged, and its

all

because

of

him.'

Anger is our natural defense against pain.

So when I say, "I hate you"

it actually means,

"You hurt me"

'If I can still be so calm around him, is it-is it possible, I might be able to love again?

Or will it all come crashing to an end, like I had thought

when my brother turned on me?'

There are many things people think that drove her insane. Some were depression,

anger, loneliness. No, those were not it.

Others were sadness, isolation, being tortured. Those were closer.

But not yet there.

She was lonely. She was sad. She was angry. She was isolated. But she was never, ever depressed.

Depression was useless in the life of a prisoner.

Pain was not even the correct word. It played a part, but not the thing that gave her motivation.

What motivation, you say?

Some questions are easier to answer than others:

The motivation to kill.

Life wasn't so much better when the war was over. When he returned, she denied his rule over her. She stopped showing

any particular affection to anyone.

There is one thought, and one thought only, racing in her

head while she digs the penknife into the enemy's neck, only one thought, the thought which consisted

of three words- her motivation.

Her motivation wasn't normal. It was so abnormal

yet so natural.

Her words- Loyalty, Revenge, Betrayal.

Her scar still stung. She was scarred, and she would be scarred forever, by the memories of the battle,

by the memory of how he left her.

Even now, she can't quite look at him in the eyes and smile.

She doesn't know if he knows he's hurt her, but Singa can tell that

he can see something. She wants to find out what

it is. She hasn't fully forgiven him, nor

will she ever.

The same words always come to her head, painted in red- the color of blood.

'All because of him'

and

'You hurt me'

Some people think she had the strength to live through the

war from bravery. They think its because she was desperate

to hold on. That is true. The only thing is that

she didn't do it partly because she wasn't-isn't afraid.

but because she is.

'Is there still hope for me?' she would always think. 'To, finally, look at everyone straight in the eyes without wincing?'

Even now, at midnight, she will stare at the moon and cry.

No matter what, the tears will leak. Some people have found her crying

but don't say a word, for fear they would be killed.

And every day, she traces the four-letter word

that had got her through the betrayals,

the word that might lead her to forgiveness, the word that could let the unforgiving forgive,

the sad to be happy,

the damaged to be repaired,

the lonely to be surrounded with friends.

Hope.

because of him. because of Oliver.