Usually I don't post stuff from my character journals, but this entry just sums up Mal's insanity too well for me not to post it.

Tell me what you think.


It hurts.

It hurts…

It fucking hurts.

And I don't know why. My spine is coated with icy shivers. The cavity where my heart once slept is aching. I, unlike the average human, survive on nothing at all… Well, nothing but fear in others, the pain in their nerves, the sounds of their screams… That is my need. Torture and sadism are my survival tools.

I do not need sleep, just the screams of innocents to keep me energized. I do not need food, just the cold sweat of a victim to keep me full. I do not need a heart to flow the blood through my body, because my veins work vicariously―if I can get your heart to pound in fear, your blood to rush insanely, then I don't need a chunk of worthless red meat to work my own circulatory system.

In fact, let me go farther than that: those things are poisonous to me. When I sleep, terror rips at my mine. Nightmares plague every second, the kind of schizophrenic hallucinations that will not stop no matter how much you should know they're not real. Flashbacks to times of abuse and trauma, though according to the people I share this body with, my flashbacks are wrong. We were never abused, according to those mindless peons. I was never abused. Right.

When I eat, it sticks to my insides and fries me up. It riles up the acid in my stomach, forcing me to the nearest toilet to vomit before the so-called nutrition can make me bloated, disgusting, a useless fatty lump…

And heart, oh, sweet delicate heart. I had one at a point, believe it or not. I don't look back on it too fondly. My heart was a fighter, though, I will give it that. It solidered on for a good twelve years, enduring splinters, knives, and the pointed fingers of the child-killing witches I was forced to call "Mom and Dad". My heart beat on until the day I freed myself, the day I sent all of these supposed necessities far away from my broken soul.

I cried out, "I will never sleep again! I will never eat another bite! I will never love another mortal being!" These things were toxic.

Of course, the body doesn't recognize what is good for the soul. My soul― if I even have one to call my own― is a broken, shattered mass of muck that refuses to glow as it should. This body, however, is a human home for several distinct "people", so I understand its stupidity and confusion. I don't like it, but I understand it.

My stomach twists, but I'd rather starve than purge. My eyes are weary, but I'd rather have sleepless nights than dreams of fright. My chest hurts, it hurts, IT FUCKING BURNS ME but I'd rather be loveless than heartbroken.

And I'll suffer, I'll suffer, I'll suffer for you… I do anything you ask me to… I'm a hero without question, but you keep on breaking me…

I'm stronger when I'm broken. It's easier than picking up the pieces and forcing them together, walking around with a painted on smile and a patchwork heart for an emotion that does nothing for me in the first place.

I'm happy being evil. The pain of the body is worth the freedom of my mind.