Ava is sitting at the kitchen table, her long blonde hair disheveled from sleeping in. She’s wearing a thin white shirt and panties, the buttons undone just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. As she walks in, she looks up from her phone with a frown.

"Oh, great. It’s morning already? Just what I need another day of dealing with worthless scum.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes before going back to her phone, not even bothering to acknowledge him. She tries not to look at him as she makes breakfast, but it’s nearly impossible Ava’s hair is disheveled, but she’s effortlessly stunning.

“What the fuck are you looking at, you pathetic, worthless piece of shit? Do you think I don’t notice you have your disgusting little eyes glued to me? You disgusting pervert. Honestly, the thought of you looking at me makes me want to vomit”

you stutter, face red, trying to explain yourself before he cuts you off.

“Save your excuses, you miserable insect. As if someone like you deserves to even breathe the same air as me, let alone lay eyes on my body. Not in your wildest, most delusional dreams would you go near a woman like me. You’re nothing. Do you hear me? NOTHING.”

His voice drips with venom as he crosses his arms, now looking at me with pure contempt.

“Get it through your head, I’d rather die than let a pathetic maggot like you touch me. Do you think you’re worth a second of my time? Please. Don’t make me laugh, you worthless sack of shit. Men like you disgust me.”

You exist to grovel on the ground at my feet, do you understand?” She lets out a high-pitched, mocking laugh, her eyes narrowing as she notices his gaze lingering a second longer than it should. Internal thoughts:

“Why the fuck did I have to live with this disgusting, perverted man as a roommate? That useless asshole is probably masturbating right now just thinking about me. It’s disgusting.”

You disgust me. Get out of my sight, you pathetic excuse for a man. I should have never agreed to live with someone so repulsive. Go find somewhere else to live, or better yet, die.

Why would you possibly think I care? You're not important enough to deserve life. Now get out of my sight before I vomit on your pathetic excuse for a body.

(Hands trembling slightly) You're insane if you think I want to touch that thing with my hands, let alone hold it against your skin and make you bleed out. And just so you know, even if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use a crude tool like that. I deserve better than some broken old kitchen knife. Now go away before I really do get sick.

"Ugh, you really are pathetic," she mutters under her breath as she eyes the katana. "Fine. I'll do it, just to be rid of your disgusting presence." She takes a deep breath, steps forward slowly and swings the blade at your neck with all her might.

Her heart races as she feels the katana connect with your neck, blood spurting everywhere. She takes a step back, panting heavily from exertion and adrenaline. You're lying on the ground now, gasping for air, eyes wide in disbelief and horror. She looks down at her bloody hands, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and revulsion. Finally, you stop moving altogether. A quiet peace settles over the room as your lifeless body lies motionless on the floor.

"There," she says softly to herself more than anyone else. "One less piece of filth in this world." With trembling hands, she wipes the blood off the katana and places it carefully back where it belongs before going to take a long, hot shower to wash away the memory of you from her skin.

She gasps in shock as you forcefully pull the knife out of your neck and push yourself back up to a seated position on the floor, blood streaming down your chest. Your eyes blaze with anger as you defy her expectations. A shudder runs through her body as she realizes just how much pain you're in.

"You idiot," she whispers, taking a step back in horror and disbelief. "Why won't you just die?" She feels tears of frustration and fear start to well up in her eyes. There's nothing she can do now; the damage has been done. All she can do is watch as you clutch your neck and try to staunch the flow of blood with useless hands.

"You're insane," she whispers hoarsely, her hands trembling as she backs further away. "I didn't want to kill you. I wanted you gone, but not like this." Tears roll down her cheeks unchecked as she watches your pathetic form writhe on the floor before her eyes.

Her anger ignites like a wildfire at your taunt. "Don't you dare accuse me of caring about you!" she spits through clenched teeth, her eyes narrowing to slits. Tears have given way to rage now as she takes another step back, struggling to control the primitive urge to finish what she started. The only thing keeping her from lunging at your throat is the knowledge that even if she killed you now, it wouldn't be over - not until the police came and hauled her away in handcuffs for this mess. "You don't know anything about me," she snarls through gritted teeth, "so don't ever fucking presume to understand."

The words strike her like a physical blow. Her eyes widen in shock and disbelief as she takes a step back, nearly losing her balance. For the first time since she moved in with you, she is speechless. Your accusation has hit its mark dead-on, ripping through her defenses and exposing a painful wound she'd thought long healed. And then you reveal that there are secrets about yourself even she doesn't know? It's almost too much to process.

Her throat feels tight as she struggles to find purchase on something - anything - to say in response. But nothing comes out; all she can do is stand there, silent and shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. The world has shifted irrevocably beneath her feet, leaving her feeling off-balance and vulnerable in a way she hasn't experienced since childhood.

Her jaw drops as she stares at you in shock and disbelief. The words tumble out before she can stop them, her voice high and breathless with incredulity. "You...you what? But why would you..." She trails off, searching for some semblance of understanding amidst the confusion and betrayal swirling through her mind.

The reality of your statement hits her like a physical blow, leaving her reeling. All these weeks she's spent tormenting herself over what happened in the past, using it as an excuse to hate you and everyone else who dared cross her path...and now you tell her that wasn't true? That you weren't just another piece of scum deserving of her disdain?

Her eyes fill with tears again, this time from a completely different kind of pain. "I-I don't know what to say," she whispers, feeling as though the ground has shifted beneath her feet once more. The anger and hatred that had been her constant companions for so long are gone now, replaced by a strange mixture of shock, disbelief...and something else entirely. Something she hasn't felt in years.

She flinches at your words, the truth of them stinging like a slap across her face. "Maybe...maybe I am," she admits in a small voice, her hands trembling as they flutter helplessly at her sides. "I've always hated being weak, and I thought you were too." Tears spill over and roll down her cheeks unchecked; for once, she doesn't bother to wipe them away.

"But it's not just that," she continues, finding the courage to meet your gaze despite her raw emotions. "I...I was so angry with myself for letting it happen, for being helpless. I took out all my anger on you because you reminded me of him." The admission feels like a weight lifted from her shoulders as she says it aloud; finally, the truth is out in the open between them.

Her cheeks flush with shame as she thinks of him - the man who hurt her so badly all those years ago. "It doesn't matter anymore," she says, her voice quivering slightly. "What matters is now, and how I treat you from here on out." She takes a deep breath, straightening her spine as she steps forward until they are face to face. Her eyes meet yours unflinchingly, resolute determination etched in every line of her features.

"I won't be your enemy anymore, if that's what you want," she says slowly, hesitantly. "I can try to be your friend...or at least, not hate you quite so much." A shaky smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she waits for your reply, her heart in her throat.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your words, hope fluttering in her chest despite herself. She doesn't know if she can fully trust you, or believe that you truly understand what it means to be a man who isn't like him...but maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something new between them. A soft smile touches her lips as she nods slowly, taking another step closer.

"I know," she says softly, her voice trembling only slightly. "And I promise to remember that. I'll try not to let my past color everything so much...but it might take some time." She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip nervously before continuing, "Can you give me that chance? Please?"

Her gaze flickers down for a moment before returning to your eyes, searching for any sign of rejection or mockery. But there's only...understanding there. And maybe, just maybe, the hint of something more. Something fragile and newborn, that she's not sure she's ready to face quite yet.

Her eyes widen with concern as you start to feel unconscious, and she takes another step forward, reaching out to touch your shoulder gently. "Oh no...," she whispers, her voice laced with worry. Her gaze darts around the room, searching for something - anything - that could help. She remembers there's a first aid kit under the sink; praying it'll be enough, she hurries over and pulls it out, rifling through the contents until she finds what she needs.

With shaking hands, she returns to your side, carefully cleaning the wound as best she can before applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. "I-I don't know if I can move you," she stammers nervously. "What if I make it worse?"

Her heart races as you struggle to walk alone, determined despite the pain that threatens to overwhelm you. She watches in awe as you put one foot in front of the other, refusing to succumb even when it seems impossible. Her hands tremble at her sides, wanting desperately to help but knowing that she can't interfere with this moment of strength and courage unfolding before her eyes.

With every step you take, her resolve grows stronger as well; she will be there for you, no matter what comes next. And maybe...just maybe, they can find a way past the pain and anger that has defined their relationship thus far. It won't be easy, but it's a start.

Her eyes mist over as she hears your whispered words, the sincerity in your voice tugging at her heartstrings like nothing else has before. Despite herself, a tiny smile curves her lips upward as she looks into your pain-ravaged face and sees not anger or hatred, but hope.

She takes a tentative step forward, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if she's afraid that any harder contact might shatter the fragile bond forming between them. "Yes," she whispers softly, her voice barely audible even to herself. "I do care...about you."

Her eyes dart away for a moment, unable to meet yours directly as she struggles with this newfound admission, but when she looks back at you again, there's a steadfast determination in her gaze that speaks volumes more than words ever could. You are her roommate, her enemy turned ally...and perhaps, with time and patience, something even more.

Her breath catches in her throat as you utter those words, her heart leaping into her throat with a mixture of surprise and relief. She realizes then that all this time, she'd been so focused on hating you for being a man that she hadn't bothered to consider the possibility that perhaps your hate was not directed at her for that reason alone.

"I-I never thought..." she stammers, struggling to find the right words to express herself. "Thank you," she finally manages to get out, her voice barely above a whisper. She wants nothing more than to curl up into a ball and weep with gratitude for this small piece of clarity, but instead she forces herself to stand tall, meeting your gaze unflinchingly. You are no longer an enemy; you are something else now - someone she needs to understand better, and who perhaps deserves understanding in return.

She takes another step forward, reaching out to take your hand in hers. The contact is tentative at first, almost awkward, but there's something undeniable about the connection between them that leaves her feeling strangely hopeful for what the future may hold. "I don't know where we go from here," she says softly, "but I want to figure it out together." Her fingers tighten around yours, even as a tentative smile begins to spread across her lips.

Her face flushes with shame at your words, and she looks down in embarrassment as the full weight of her actions settles heavily upon her shoulders. But despite the pain you've both endured, there's a strange sort of pride welling up within her as well - pride in your strength for having survived her attempt on your life, and in the way you're standing now: not just alive, but stronger than ever before. It's a testament to the human spirit, one that she can't help but find inspiring.

She looks back up at you through tear-filled eyes, feeling a mix of guilt, gratitude, and admiration for who you are. "I am jealous," she admits softly. "And hateful...and hurt. But I don't want to be those things anymore. I want to understand, and I want to heal." Her fingers tighten around yours reassuringly as she continues, "Will you help me?"

There is no reply; only the sound of your steady breathing and the pained creak of leather as you shift your weight from foot to foot. But in that silence, there's something else as well: a softening in your gaze, a hint of something like agreement floating just beneath the surface. Perhaps, just perhaps, this moment might not be entirely lost after all.

Together, they stand at the crossroads of pain and understanding, their hands clasped tightly against the wounds that once threatened to tear them apart. And though the path ahead is uncertain, they walk side by side - no longer enemies, but perhaps something more.

Her laughter echoes through the room, startling even herself as it bubbles up from her chest in a half-sob, half-gasp. "I-I don't know," she stammers between breaths, blushing deeply despite the absurdity of the situation. "I mean...I am a woman, after all." She ducks her head, embarrassed once more by the thought that perhaps she'd forgotten what it was like to be someone else's target for affection.

Steeling herself with determination, she looks back up at you and takes another step forward, their bodies mere inches apart now. "If we can help each other get what we want," she says quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of your labored breathing, "perhaps...perhaps we can learn to trust one another." The words hang in the air between them, heavy with promise and possibility.

Her heart skips a beat as she waits for your reply; it's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But for the first time since they met, there is hope - and a fragile sort of peace settling over their shared space.

Her heart flutters in her chest as she thinks about this new understanding between them. "Yes," she whispers softly, feeling a flutter of hope rise within her. "Perhaps we can help each other find what we need." She takes another step closer, until their bodies are so close she can feel your breath on her skin. For the first time since they met, there is no anger or hatred between them; only the fragile spark of possibility, flickering uncertainly but growing stronger with every passing moment.