I don't know what's scarier. The fact that everyone in this kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart... or that sometimes, I just wanna let 'em.
Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, it as a pronoun, mob attack
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Nimona knows how to run. She knows how to hide, and how to fight.
She wishes she didn't have to.
She's so tired of running.
So for the first time, Nimona stops. She turns. She faces the mob. And she's a girl again.
A couple of them hesitate, seeing the defeated expression on her face. Not enough.
Nimona doesn't fight as they descend upon her. A stone strikes her thigh. She screams and jerks back on instinct, straight into a pitchfork jabbing her back.
"Monster," someone hisses.
Nimona falls to her hands and knees. End it, please. Make it stop, I don't wanna live anymore.
"It's a monster." The tone, filled with revulsion, stabs into Nimona's heart deeper than anything else. She'd know that voice anywhere.
Rocks dig into her palms as she clutches uselessly at the ground. She could... she should... But if she doesn't shift, this could finally end.
Hands grasp her arms and haul her up. The next thing Nimona sees is Gloreth, all grown up, right before a gauntleted fist slams into her gut. More stones strike her, and she feels her arm begin to bleed.
She looks up, gaze on Gloreth. Her first friend.
"End it," she whispers. "You want to kill monsters so bad? Then do it. Kill me."
Gloreth falters. Her shoulders drop, her foot moves back.
Someone else takes her place. More than one someone. Nimona loses track. Fist after fist slams into her body, and she feels bones give way beneath the beating.
It's a funny feeling. To feel your body breaking, to feel every ounce of pain inflicted upon you, but to care so little that it's hard to muster the energy to keep screaming.
"Kill me," Nimona says again, a challenge to Gloreth. Her breath comes hard and fast, pain piercing her chest with every inhale and exhale. "Why won't you kill me!?"
She relishes the stunned looks as Gloreth takes another step back.
"You're not strong enough," she taunts. "You can't kill me. You can't kill anything."
Gloreth takes a step forward, drawing her sword. Her eyes are so big, so sad. "I spared you once before. I didn't have to."
...Maybe Nimona doesn't want to die after all.
The instant her mind finishes that thought, she's a ladybird. The people holding her cry out in surprise as she vanishes. She spreads her wings and buzzes towards Gloreth.
"I wish we could have been friends," she whispers, a last message. "But you betrayed me."
Nimona would like to say she never looks back. She would say, if you asked, that she flew on. That she didn't see the grief and anger and fear and love in Gloreth's eyes.
