As the villain stands over the fallen hero, the fallen hero, watching as dust settles in the moment, their beliefs are feels justified- they think they are bringing justice to feel justified over the world thinking they had wiped out the corruption and evil form this dreaded world.
There is a pride in what have they done, there's a bitter satisfaction that they are standing for their own convictions. But beneath their pride lingers into something else—a quiet emptiness and shallow of doubt.
For all their certainty, a question remains: Have they become the very thing they fought against?
The grandeur of the Greek-Hispanic Library stood tall, its shelves are towering shelves lined with ancient wisdom but none of it could lighten the heavy air that was pressing down the moment. The woman's glare was sharp her brows furrowed, her presence is cold and unlyding..
"We're not villains," yelled their voices firm yet laced- with something later. We're intellectuals. We are the only ones who have the moral courage to rid the world of its rot."
Patricia stood there still, blood trailing from the corners of her mouth. She lifted her chin with quiet elegance now edged with defiance. Even bruised, she looked composed — like a marble cracked but unbroken.
Beside her was Tanya, who struggled in her wheelchair. , her hands were trembling, but her will was unshaken.
"Stop it!"
As Tanya pushed herself forward and emerged from behind the thin wooden closet that had concealed her, her voice broke. Breathing heavily, she drew Patricia into a fierce embrace.
"I love her. Can you hear yourself? I loved her!" Her remarks reverberated like an indisputable truth because of the high ceilings of the library.
Then there was silence, one long moment in which everything was on the line. The so-called intellectuals paused, their conviction faltering in the face of the unadulterated human feeling in front of them.
But Patricia's glare was burning hot and fueled by love and anguish. She held Tanya tighter, wanting to shield her and protect her from the rest of the world and the world's agony.
Patricia glared at them, her eyes darted at them with fury, gaze was so intense it could tear every air between them. "You talk about justice," she yelled, her voice cold with fury. "But you merely stained your hands with blood;is it that your righteousness makes you blind to the pain that you have caused?"
The villains' boots struck with brutal force. Patricia and Tanya tumbled backward, their bodies instinctively clinging to each other as they crashed into the iron fence. The world spun around them—metal clanging, breaths hitching—until gravity wrenched them further into the cold embrace of the sculpture behind them.
A fight had been fought, and blood rippled across the marble, stained the sword of the sculpture; a fine but ornamental sword, now glowing red as if time seemed to freeze. The world suddenly reduced to just the drops of blood, each one representing the love that had been torn apart.
Despite their sad condition, the flames within Patricia and Tanya made their passion brighter than ever before — their spirits flashing in more sparks than the golden light reflected in the stained glass above them.
Patricia's grip on Tanya tightened, her fingers trembling against the fabric of her shirt. Tanya, barely able to breathe, let out a shaky whisper.
"...You're here."
Patricia's vision blurred, the pain searing through her like fire, but she forced a soft smirk. "Of course I am."
The villains stepped back, the weight of their actions dawning upon them as they watched the couple—entwined in agony, yet still holding onto each other as if love itself defied death.
The statue had seen lovers immortalized in stone. But tonight, it bore witness to something far more powerful: love that endured even as life threatened to slip away.
The silence fell sharply, a chilling, unnerving silence. The villains looked at their hands, shaking in the hands of blood and blood-soaked blood that was their terrible sense of justice, while above them the statue stood motionless, its stone face fixed on the scene below, watching with its eternal gaze–passionate and painful and cruel and fragile.
They left, their burden heavy, each step under the weight of their indecisiveness; they destroyed the corruption of the world, but, in doing so, they had brought the very corruption they said to destroy.
And there, in the blood, in the death, the lovers Patricia and Tanya became martyrs - not only for their love but for something that neither reason nor judgement could ever grasp.
A student on her headset gasped at the scene going on behind her and feared that it would make her squirm.
"Ahhhhh!~.