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Lila knows she's changed, alright? She knows. She's not an IDIOT.
She doesn't spare a thought to the fact that she didn't used to get this angry, not this easily—
She can tell that she's changed. There's something dark underneath her skin now, slithering like shadows. Behind her eyes, in her brain, fluttering like moths.
She is more than aware she might not even count as Lila anymore. The name feels fragile, replaceable, like peeling paint. It's something that belonged to a weaker girl— a girl who really only served as a shell, breaking apart as this thing inside her grew, ceaselessly consuming.
A tree hollowed out by beetles. An ant with Cordyceps. A fox dying of heartworm. A cuckoo's egg, hatching.
No one noticed a thing.
Why would they? None of them really cared about her. Even her own mother preferred to be at work than in her presence.
Lila hadn't meant to cause harm— she only wanted someone, anyone, even a monster, to care about her. But eat or be eaten is the law, and even butterflies drink blood sometimes.
The cocoon breaks, and Chrysalis emerges, discarding the meaningless existence of Lila Rossi.
The dead girl's name gathers dust, and her parasite walks the earth.