Life is a game.
Some will win, and some will lose.
Some will have advantages, and some will have obstacles.
Some will live, and some will die.
Life is nothing more than a game of dice. If you are born into power, then you win. If you are born to a peasant, then you lose. There may be an anomaly, but how much of an impact can one person impede the outcome of a game?
How did someone that died become that anomaly? How could that person play with the lives of others like a puppeteer fiddling with their marionettes? Is it possible that one person can take lives within the snap of their fingers?
Can one person take the lives of many while still rolling that poor hand of dice?
I am proof. I am that anomaly. I once dreamed of being normal; I accepted my fate of being a mere peasant. I know that my death was to be nothing more than a drop in the bucket. No one would mourn for me. There would be no flowers at my grave, no possessions to give to my family, and no thought spared in my direction.
There is just a small issue with that idea. I am not dead.
Not anymore, at least.
My name is Alice Bennet, and I am a monster.
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