Chapter 4: Past

Marco was standing over Tim Salvat, a notorious bully at his middle school who would constantly pick on him. Marco hadn't done anything out of fear of exposing himself. He found the kid outside walking around after school, and Marco had taken the opportunity to exact his revenge.

He had already won the fight, but something in Marco wanted more. His fists were still electrified from every punch he'd landed, the tingling sensation almost begging Marco to keep going. So Marco did, over and over and over, the sound of the kid's pleas drowned out by Marco's heart pounding in his ears and the cracking of bones as his fists connected with the kid's face.

He didn't know when he started smiling ear to ear—maybe it was from the beginning—but Marco was in bliss. The feeling of blood on his knuckles, the thrill of hurting someone, being stronger than someone, all of it made him shudder in pleasure. That's when he heard it.

"Marco?" Jackie's voice came.

He turned around in horror to find his three friends standing behind him: Sabrina, Jackie, and Janna. They were staring, mortified.

Janna's eyes were wide open. "What the fuck are you doing, Diaz?" she muttered, staring at the crying kid under Marco.

Sabrina looked at him in horror. "Your knuckles—you told me they were from boxing."

Marco stared at his hands. The skin on his knuckles had ripped off during the fight. A mix of his own blood and the bully's painted his hands red.

"Th-this isn't what it looks like," Marco stammered, standing up.

The bully took the chance to stumble away, sobbing and leaving drops of blood and broken teeth on the ground.

"He started it, I just—"

"Were you smiling?" Jackie asked, disgusted.

"No, I was just... well, I mean, yes, but it's not what you think! Y-you see, w-when I was winning, I—" Marco tried again, stumbling through his words.

"I saw the fight, dude," Janna said, still horrified. "You won a long time ago, Marco. Why did you keep hitting him?"

"What is wrong with you?" Sabrina asked.

Marco flinched at her words.

He opened his mouth to try again, but before he could say anything, Jackie stomped toward him and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him into the wall, knocking the breath out of him.

"How long, Diaz?" Jackie screamed. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Jackie, you're hurting me," Marco struggled to breathe.

"Really?" Jackie said sarcastically. "You didn't seem to care about that with the guy you were beating up."

"That was different. He was a bad guy," Marco explained. He just needed them to understand. If he could make them see his point of view, they'd understand him. He wasn't a monster. Marco was normal.

"So that makes it okay to stoop to his level?" Jackie asked, tightening her grip on his collar. Marco felt his back graze the concrete wall, cutting his skin.

"You said you got those injuries from boxing," Jackie said. "Don't tell me you've been running around playing hero?" She paused, then added, "No, that's not it. You're doing it because it makes you feel good to hurt others, doesn't it?"

She slammed him against the wall again, the impact ripping through his shirt, reopening the cuts on his back. Marco grunted as he felt warm blood seeping through his wounds.

"Stop it, Jackie, you're going too far," Janna said, grabbing her arm.

Jackie released Marco, and he slumped to the ground. He grunted as he hit the floor, his back stinging in pain.

Jackie sighed, looking at him. Regret filled her eyes. "Sorry, it's just... his face, the way he was smiling, it looked just like—"

"Her. Yeah, we know," Sabrina finished. "But Marco isn't her. He's just confused. He doesn't understand what he's doing."

Janna knelt down to Marco but stopped a few inches from his face. "You okay, man?" she asked.

Marco looked up at his friends. His vision was still blurry from getting slammed—when did Jackie get so strong? He struggled to focus, but when he did, he noticed their eyes. God, their eyes. The way they looked at him was ingrained in his mind. They looked disgusted, like he was some sort of horrendous monster. Why would his friends look at him like that? Why didn't they get it?

It was probably then that Marco realized his "friends" would never understand him. In their eyes, he was just a wild animal.

That was his last memory of the night. Marco passed out and woke up in the hospital.

He was surrounded by his friends and family. His parents rushed to him, hugging him and asking if he was okay, telling him they were proud of him.

Marco was confused but hugged them regardless. Later, he found out that Janna had made up a story about Marco protecting his friends from a thug and getting knocked out in the process. Once his parents had left, Jackie profusely apologized to Marco.

Marco could tell from her face that she'd been crying—her eyes were red, and dried tears streaked her cheeks. As she held him and apologized again, she started crying once more.

Marco assured her it was okay and that he forgave her, and didn't blame her. Secretly, though, Marco had been somewhat afraid of Jackie ever since, making it a priority to avoid any physical confrontation with her—it froze him up. That was the last time he could remember ever touching Jackie. Anytime they were close, Marco made sure to create some distance, which was why he often walked next to Janna to avoid being too close to Jackie.

Sabrina had also been crying, although she hadn't admitted it. Marco apologized for lying to her and to all his friends, making up some excuse about getting power-hungry. He promised them he wouldn't pick fights like that again.

They forgave him, and stayed with him at the hospital, talking and playing games. Despite everything, once they left, Marco still felt sad. Despite Jackie's words and Janna's lecture, Marco didn't regret what he did.

He stared down at his bandaged hands. Maybe he was some sort of monster. Whatever he was, Marco knew he couldn't live without that feeling anymore, and now he needed to keep it a secret from his friends. Another layer of problems in his life. He just wished… that someone would one day understand him. In all honesty, Marco didn't want to get better. He liked this feeling, and he found nothing wrong with hurting people who deserved it. It was a far-fetched wish, but still, it would be nice to have someone like him.

Star POV

Star hummed softly as she strolled through the monster village, her footsteps slow and deliberate. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air, mingling with the distant screams of dying monsters—though these sounds were growing fewer by the minute. Her knights had done their work well; the village was burning, its inhabitants eradicated, one by one.

She never participated in such trivial slaughter herself. There was no satisfaction in killing the weak. It was like stepping on insects—hardly worth her time. After all, with the power she wielded, what were they to her but ants?

She stopped in the center of the village, where the leader of these pitiful creatures stood trapped in a shimmering magical barrier. Asdard, son of the Lizard Queen, the very one who had plagued Mewni for years. Her mother had commanded her to keep him alive. Alive—but not unharmed. And so, Star had taken her time, letting him watch as every last one of his kind was slaughtered. His bloody fists had pounded against the walls of the barrier, but now, as he knelt in defeat, his strength had abandoned him. His body trembled, his head hung low in despair.

The sight stirred something in Star—a dark, twisted joy.

"Ah, Asdard," she said, stepping closer, her voice cool and sharp. "The proud son of Kalamainu. How utterly disappointing you've become."

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Tell me, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Kneeling before me like a broken dog?"

Asdard didn't respond at first, his shoulders shaking as he stared at the ground. Finally, in a voice so weak it was almost a whisper, he asked, "W-why?"

Star's expression hardened into a cold smile, and she sighed. "Why is it that you monsters always ask the same tiresome question? Why?"

She lifted her arm, the amulet around her neck glowing faintly. A shimmering magical hand appeared within the barrier, grabbing Asdard by the throat and lifting his head so that his eyes were forced to meet hers.

His fear was palpable, his wide eyes reflecting pure terror as he looked upon her. What he saw in her gaze was not the compassion of a ruler, nor the humanity of a mewman princess. No, what stared back at him were two icy, lifeless blue eyes—devoid of warmth, devoid of mercy. A chilling smile played on her lips, cold and cruel.

"Monsters like you never understand," Star said softly, her voice a mere whisper as the magical hand tightened around his neck. "You expect some grand reason, some righteous cause. How utterly naive."

She chuckled darkly, her fingers flexing as the amulet's magic pulsed stronger. "No, I will tell you the truth, Asdard. I do this not because I must, nor because it is my duty as princess. No, I do this because I enjoy it. I revel in it."

Her smile widened, eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "The thrill of crushing those beneath me, of watching them writhe in agony, powerless before me. The way their fear clings to the air like sweet perfume… Oh, it is exquisite."

The magical hand tightened further, making Asdard choke and gasp for air. Star's heart raced, her pulse quickening as the intoxicating feeling of control coursed through her veins. "To bend the will of others, to feel the sheer power coursing through my body, is there anything more divine?"

But just as the pleasure of her power began to swell, something caught her eye—the fearful expressions of her own knights, watching her from the edges of the square. Their eyes, wide and filled with dread, sent an unwelcome chill down her spine.

Her smile faltered.

Without another word, she let the magical hand dissolve, releasing Asdard from its grip. He crumpled to the ground, coughing and trembling, broken and defeated. But the satisfaction she had sought was already gone.

"Take him," she commanded, her voice cold and distant. "Prepare for our return to Mewni."

Her knights moved at once, hastily dragging the half-dead monster away, their eyes averted as they avoided looking directly at their princess. None dared speak to her.

Star turned and walked toward her carriage, her steps silent on the scorched earth. As she passed, her knights recoiled slightly, making a deliberate effort to keep their distance. They were terrified of her. As they should be.

But the fear in their eyes... it left her feeling hollow.

She stepped into the carriage, sinking into the plush velvet seat as the door closed behind her. The air inside was thick with the lingering scent of battle, but it no longer thrilled her as it once had. Her fingers brushed against the amulet around her neck, tracing its intricate design, but even that small comfort did little to ease the disquiet in her heart.

Power. Yes, she had power—more than any of these fools could ever comprehend. But what was power without someone to share it with? To understand it as she did?

Star's gaze drifted to the small window, watching the smoke rise in dark spirals, twisting into the sky. Her heart clenched, the familiar pang of loneliness settling deep within her chest.

"Is this my fate?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the carriage. "To be feared, but never understood?"

Her fingers tightened around the amulet, her knuckles turning white. "Surely... somewhere, there must be someone who does not tremble at the sight of power. Someone who revels in it, as I do."

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned her head back, her eyes closing. "I am surrounded by lambs—pathetic, weak lambs, who cower and plead for mercy. But where is the wolf? The one who will stand beside me, not in fear, but in triumph?"

The carriage jolted slightly as it began to move, the horses pulling it away from the burning village. Star sat in silence, her thoughts a swirling storm of discontent. The thrill of victory, the intoxicating pleasure of domination—it had all begun to feel so hollow. What she craved was more than power. She craved understanding.

But she doubted she would ever find it.

Her eyes remained closed as the carriage rumbled onward, the sound of crackling flames fading into the distance. One day, she thought, one day she would find someone who could match her. Someone who would not flinch from her power, but embrace it.

"Perhaps," she murmured to herself, "perhaps then, I shall no longer walk this path alone."

But for now, she would have to settle for her fleeting moments of control. And as the darkness of the night settled around her, Star allowed herself a small, bitter smile.

She would wait. And she would find them. One day.

Well there's chapter 4! If you haven't already seen I rewrote chapter 1 and posted a reason for my absence. Once again I apologize for my absence. Thank you much for reading and make sure to write any reviews or comments!