She was... … What was she?

Was she brave? Fighting for the winning side wasn't brave if you knew they'd win, right?

Was she clever? The books were clever, so were the people who wrote the books, so if you memorised a book, and used the knowledge, that's plagiarism, so, no, she's not clever.

Was she cunning? No, she hated the idea of cunning.

Was she Loyal? Loyalty only works if you have friends to be loyal to.

Was she creative? Ideas from books are not your ideas, so no, not creative.

Was she kind? Define kind. Did she share her knowledge? No-one ever asked. Did she share her (metaphorical) toys? Again, no-one asked. Did she help a friend in need? You can't help a friend if you don't have any.

Was she greedy? She took only what was needed.

Was she helpful? You can't be helpful if it's what you always do, and you can't be helpful if no-one notices you've done it.

Was she emotional? Can you be emotional if there's no such thing as emotions? Chemicals ran round her brain, but chemicals run around everyone's brain.

Was she Loved? Can you be something you don't believe in? Her view on love? Nothing. Love is a disease, she thinks, it lasts three months, tops. Everything after that is the person clinging to the last echo, trying t drag it out and prolong the inevitable. The inevitable being, of course, loneliness. She likes thinking about love, because it sets her in a mood, one of those i-can-do-anything moods where the laws of physics don't exist, and her brain pushes new limits of depressed. She likes feeling this, it makes her feel special.

She likes to sit and think about the human race. They've been here for a couple of million years, she thinks, they'll be gone soon. She likes to thinkabout posessions, and how people hold on to the weirdest of things. Chalk, Toys, Hair, Clothes, they're all the same, she thinks. She likes to get angry, really angry, to the point of violence, and then think. She thinks about how emotions don't exist, and how strange it is to feel anger when really all there is is a load of chemicals running around her brain. She likes to think about death, and how everyone makes a mointain out of a molehill. You can prolong it, delay it, even speed it up, but you can't avoid it. Pretending you're a god (A/Nyes, Light Yagami, I'm talking to you, and Krissi) or pretending you come from another planet is pointless.

She likes to think about humans again, and how they're just empty shells. She likes people watching, and wondering how they can bear to think they're so important. She likes to watch muggle movies, and laugh at how the main character thinks they're important when they're just another human, sentenced to die, maybe by themselves. She laughs at the irony.

We live, we die, she thinks. Hardly a blip in between, she thinks. And at that thought, as if on queue, the passer by who isn't really a passer by reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the gun, and her world goes dark.