Villain Origin

Oh, I remember.

I used to shrink myself to make others comfortable.

Smiled through gritted teeth. Bit my tongue until it bled.

I was the helper, the healer, the “of course I don’t mind.”

But soft doesn’t mean stupid.

Kind doesn’t mean weak.

And silence doesn’t mean consent.

They laughed when I set boundaries.

They mocked my fire and called it “too much.”

And when I finally said no, they called me the villain.

Fine.

Let them.

Let them whisper about me in rooms they thought I’d never enter.

Let them fear the storm they created.

Because I’m done being digestible.

This is the part of the story where the soft girl sets everything on fire …

not out of cruelty,

but because she finally realized

she never needed their permission to burn.

Now I wear my rage like red lipstick.

Now I protect my peace like a dragon guards gold.

Now I smile when they flinch …

because I earned my crown,

and I’m not handing it back.

Not for them.

Not ever again.