Sometimes she got tired of sleeping with dead things, with guns underneath her pillow and a bag of rock salt by the door.
She was going to be honest and admit that there was most definitely a thrill in the hunt, the necessity of her job, the fight and the adrenalin rush.
When she'd first started this, she'd been full of vengeance, righteous retribution, had a partner and laughed as she wasted every fucking evil thing that crossed her path.
Revenge she had gotten but it had cost. Alone now and feeling the purpose seep out of her with each pull of the trigger, there was no more laughter.
Darkness swirled in a fog around her ankles, promising her that its retribution would come too.
So now… now…
She was afraid that she would turn into the monsters she chased down. An instinct told her that she already had. Her transformation was metaphorical, of course. She hated and feared the dark magic, as she should have. Still, there were other kinds of monsters in this grey world not just the fanged, black-eyed ones.
Sophie was just waiting for the moment when she became consciously aware of her own 'monstrosity' and needed to put a gun to her own head.
Oh how the future shined bright for Sophie.
