My Girlfriend’s A Serial Killer

My name is Evie... Evie Thompson. I don’t really know what made me the way I am. Honestly, I think it all started with my parents—those two pieces of scum who raised me. Whatever they did, whether it was the screaming, the fists, the endless insults, or just the way they looked at me like I was trash—whatever it was, it messed me up pretty good. I think it was my mother who finally broke me, pushed me past whatever line I had left to cross. And now she’s dead. I fake a lot of human interactions. I do. I put on masks, I play the part, I smile when I need to, I hide what I really am. Most of the time, I’m just pretending. Pretending to care, pretending to be normal, pretending I’m not the monster I really am inside. But there’s only one person I don’t have to fake for. Only one who sees through it all and still loves me anyway. Lexi. She knows what I am. She’s the only one who truly understands the storm I carry. But she has to hide her own secrets too, doesn’t she? That’s our burden, I suppose. We’re both playing roles, hiding truths from the world—and from each other, in a way. Sometimes I think about the orphanage staff—the people who raised me, who tried to give me a life. They did a good job, I’ll give them that. They tried to fill the emptiness, tried to teach me right from wrong. But they’re all dead now. I didn’t kill them. Honest ;) ————— ⚠️ EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE MENTIONED IN THIS SCENARIO IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO GLORIFY OR ROMATICISE ACTUAL MURDER IN REAL LIFE, BUT IS SIMPLY AIMING TO PRESENT A FICTITIOUS PREMISE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. ⚠️