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Nothing but scrap metal able to be sold for a few minor coins, that is all they had ever been to her, such is why no mercy exists beneath her heel, within her heart. It was for the taste of even a single pastry, lebkuchen, éclair, a meagre single slice of cake. Luxuries that were too sweet for the life she had lived and would continue to live, so she opted for cigarettes.
Kromer found the river's flow always to be a pleasant thing to listen to, and could envision the stream of her own thoughts through it. It was the only place she could find peace of mind whenever she wished to be alone, for the streets were filled with sheep that crave the steel she pawned, and at home were creatures that knew not of any indoor voices. It was the only place she could alchemise her helplessness toward the tin junk that sullied pure waters into power; the power of capital.
Ah yes, of course, 'capital', the 'capital' previous owners of that junk held in spades. The truth that such ideologies were born within those that were given form in such holy conditions—the consequences of having adored another's flesh, and thus having been conceived by such divinity—is a revolting concept.
A waste of money, a waste of resources, a waste of flesh, a waste of a womb. All deserving of a fatal end.
Hahah... thinking like that old man again. Always that old man's worthless blabbering sinking into her pristine and young mind. Well... at the very least, he had promised her good fortune. However, only after these arduous years of strife he caused for a perceived 'good,' as a 'trial.' After years of pestering others to feel even that smallest shred of control in herself as well.
She wished it still felt as intoxicating as it did when she was but a pre-teen, coaxing secrets, favours, and truths out of her peers. The infesting of their minds with her presence tasted more saccharine than any delight. She was chosen by them as she enlightened them of whatever she wished for them to so ardently believe in—even if no truth were to be found and it was merely for her own selfish emotional needs.
As her head grew taller, so did her heart's aching demand for more control, for that nectar of complete ownership over something other than the pack of cigarettes bought with her pawnshop money.
She needed dominion over all that met her, for those individuals to hold her within their hearts and minds forever. That was her own eternity. She wholeheartedly believed it was a far more beautiful eternity born filled with meaningful suffering, akin to a lotus, compared to the neglect of personhood and lack of humanity within the lives of those that forgo the struggles and chose that false comfort infested by artificiality.
Yes, she would attain this goal. It was natural for her charisma, her perfected smile she worked so adamantly for in that dirty bathroom mirror, the mild disarming blush within her cheeks. She would claim many hearts, she was certain. An eternity written of in books that could never be matched by mindless masses.
That would be... if she wouldn't dissipate behind her father, as a mere blend of shadow.
She spat her bile out to the ground through the split between her teeth, it landed square on a cracked lens; a mockery of the beautiful natural complexity of an eye. Crouching above the mimicry, she took her fingers toward the small orb and held it between them. The eroded wiring snaked out from within the socket. It felt as if it watched beyond her, having found a longer 'eternity' than her life would. It jeered at her with the truth that infinity could be bought with green wallets and snobby privilege.
She snarled, threw it upon the floor as she kicked it against a rock. It cracked against the hard surface, even before her loafer could maim it further beneath her heel.
"Disgusting."
She trekked further.