Amanda looked at the redheaded girl before her who begged for her life.

Like words could change anything. Words never have, and words never will. Words can't make the world stop turning, words can't make time go backwards. Words can't do shit. Words are just words.

Amanda tilted her head, studied the desperate face drenched in tears before her. She looked into her eyes, and she saw panic. But there was also a glimpse of hope. A desperate light, meaning that she somehow thought she could be saved, that something could happen that would change this situation. That light, dying by the second, was something that everyone had when a blade was pressed against their throat. Everyone but Amanda. Amanda's eyes were black. And she wanted everyone else's to be too.

She slowly pushed the dagger into the girl's skin. Her warm, soft skin that had been like silk under her fingers. The familiar skin covered in freckles, that was now sweaty. Her blood pulsating violently under it.

Amanda smiled. No, this wasn't right. She lifted the knife from the readhead's throat, noticing how the light grew in her eyes, how her pulse calmed down a bit, how her breathing instantly got a little bit slower. 

She lowered her weapon, took a step away, saw how the terrified girl's eyes got brighter, how the tears stopped running down her cheeks. And then she took it all away in one movement.

She drove the knife into her stomach, just under her ribs. She felt her body resist, revolt, refuse. All useless, of course. Amanda kept a firm grip of the dagger and closely watched the light in the eyes before her slowly fade until it was completely gone.

Only then, she let go of the knife.