Arya was all alone. There was nobody left. Her brothers; strong and kind Jon, brave Robb, sweet innocent Rickon and smart Brandon, all gone. Her parents too.
Nobody left.
She felt empty. It was like someone took all her emotions.
Hate was all she still had. Hate and revenge; everything that could make her feel alive.
She saw herself as a monster, but there was nobody left to judge her, so it didn't matter. To nobody, 'cause nobody cared about her. Anymore.
She liked killing. Liked the feeling of the warm blood from the peoble she hated so much. She liked the see the life slowly leaving the body of the peoble on her list.
They deserved it.
Right?
That was justice. That was right.
What would her parents think? Honorable Ned Stark?
He would be disgusted.
Arya felt bad at that tought. She always wanted to be a knight. Honorable and strong. Just like her father.
What did she do with her life? It was just a waste.
She was a waste.
A waste of space.
She was nothing but a murderer. Justice was to fight against someone and win. She killed peoble in their sleep, without them knowing until it was too late.
She was a terrible person.
A murderer.
A killer.
A shame for her family.
Why couldn't Jon survive the war and she could have died instead?
With that thought she fell asleep.
Tomorrow she would kill Walder Frey.
Her list would be finished soon...