The time was approaching quickly. She was becoming stronger and, indeed, more excited. A feeling of a tingling sensation gourged at her stomach, not a fear, nor nervousness, but an undying passion, a determination and ambition that had taken over. She had one mission and she was ready. A gasp escaped her pale, morbid lips as one would do to a lover in passionate actions. But there was no love. Only hate. Only a screaming monster biting and clawing its way out.
Her skin was an ashen colour with a pince of yellow and a dirty green. Scabs lined what was visible of her immature legs. A moulding dress hung slightly past her knees giving her the look of a dying hospital patient... or a dead one.
Her fierce grey eyes widened, and she became stiff. The atmosphere around her could be cut with a knife, her coldness was colder than the iceberg that made the fate of The Titanic, yet her mind was even colder.
She began to climb her way upwards. She could not see where she was going for a mock of long black, bawling hair covering her bestowed eyes, but she knew the way. She knew the way. It was automatic and fresh. She knew the way.
Each growing step she took, the more stronger she became, the more her muscles tensed, yet the more passion sunk in. Another gasp echoed from her mouth. It was the strongest desire. It was unknown what kick it gave her, unknown to her juvinile self, unknown to the world, but such a kick it gave. It was as if she was a computer programmed to kill and spread fear.
Saliva fell from her daunting mouth as she reached the top of the hell hole she had suffered. She walked forwards, her head straight, awake and knowing, knowing what she would do and what would come out of it. She was set to destroy.