Man Hunt
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Man Hunt
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Alyssa Smith
It took me too long to wake up. I let life drag me, beat me, break me.
I walked into hell with open arms, made choices that chained me to the worst consequences. Then I had the nerve to feel sorry for myself, as if I wasn't the one who put myself there.
I was.
This wasn't fate. There was no grand design, no cruel god twisting the knife. It was me. My own hands built the prison I rotted in. And the worst part? I let it happen.
I let myself be used. I let myself be broken. I became something less than human.
Shame wrapped around my throat like a noose, whispering that I was nothing. That I would always be nothing.
But I wasn't made to be a victim.
I had lived a whole life before this—a life of misery, of lies, of seeing people for what they really were. When I finally woke up, when I ripped off the chains, I didn't come back into the light.
I stayed in the shadows.
I learned to see the world for what it was—a cesspool of hidden sins and smiling liars. I had let monsters roam free. Not anymore.
I no longer exist to be broken. I exist to break them.
Now, I serve justice in the dark.
I hunt.
