Amethyst

The rain hammered against the windowpane, mimicking the frantic beat of my heart. Across the room, she sat, a porcelain doll with eyes like ice. Her name was Amethyst, and she was beautiful, a cruel, exquisite beauty that made my breath catch in my throat. She was also a monster, a fact she readily admitted, a fact that sent shivers down my spine. She called it the “beast,” a dark entity that resided within her, whispering promises of power and urging her to indulge in its insatiable hunger. I was her latest victim, a captive in her macabre game, and I knew, with a chilling certainty, that she was going to kill me. But I also knew, with a desperate hope, that I could change her, that I could somehow tame the beast before it consumed her entirely. The question was, could I do it before it consumed me?