She was going to go insane. The world was to full of it. The smell of dough rising, the sound of cracking crackers, the taste of berries in bread. To think, she who would be undone by something so usual, mundane, common, plain and simple, as baked goods. The memories of her were still haunting. The smell of her shop, the taste of her creations, the taste of her-

Madness, insanity, it would come to her on swift wings if she was around it for too long. How could she escape it, if at all? The fact was she couldn’t. She’d never be able to, let alone completely ignore it. Avoiding it was hard enough, especially at those nice little cafes she so enjoyed. Time and time again she would be exposed to them, and have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It was her curse, self created, self inflicted. Her burden of shame and sorrow. She’d done the deed, and paid for it each day. Little reminders of her failure, her loss. Her smiled, her touch, her voice, her scent, each memory was a scar that burned and could bleed.

Emelia had killed the one person who she’d told, the one she had trusted most of all. No one knew besides her. She had understood, held her, feed her, she was her rock, her mountain. And in the end, Emelia had destroyed her. The rock was cast into the abyss, and now, the witch eater would pay the price for eternity.

The city was alive, yet Emelia felt dead on the inside. Each step she took was an echo of the past in her eyes, her mind. The laughs of children playing in the parks, the rabble of men at the markets, the giggle of women gossiping of the latest events, all of it was like a reminder of just what Emelia had thrown away. She’d killed, she was not like others. What did she deserve to walk among them like any other? She was a witch eater, a wolf among sheep. Were those above right? She was a mad dog, needing to be put down? She’d eaten the heart of the one who’d trusted her. Did she deserve any better then death? As she walked down the road, the witch eater didn’t think so.

She may have taken a heart, but did that mean she was supposed to die? For a single moment of weakness? A mistake? No, she refused to accept that fate for her. She was not going to lay down and let them kill her. Killing her wouldn’t bring her love back. Her life had been taken yes, but Emelia was resolved to not it have gone to waste. She would live and thrive. A witch eater. She would not deny who or what she was. Her life was what it was. She wasn’t going to waste it. If people wanted to pretend she was nothing but a monster, she’d give them one.

Majin were the predators, they had no place with their prey anyway.