[ WP ] A monster is experiencing agonizing pain , and is convinced that killing you is the only way to relieve it . Write from the monster 's perspective .

*Why?! Why was I born?! * I asked myself. 
 
 Of course, I knew the answer. I had always known, from the moment of my birth. I knew why, but the answer was so unbearably *wrong* that I could not accept it. If there is any good in any world, then there could n't be a world in which something could be born for this reason. And yet, here I am. 
 
 I was born to feel one thing, to do one thing, to *be* one thing. Every passing second is a second that I'm reminded of why I was born, and of what I am. 
 
 I was born to hurt. I am pain incarnate, and it hurts. 
 
 Agony can not begin to describe what I have felt every second of my life. What I feel is not like being burned by fire or being stabbed by a blade. I would give anything to experience pain as trivial as that. My pain dwarfs any pain physically imaginable. It comes from the inside. 
 
 Three weeks ago, on the day of my birth, Nicole Brown, my mother, died. She breathes, but she is a breathing corpse. She had her heart broken by a Peter McDonnell, and in breaking her heart, he killed her on the inside. 
 
 My mother adored her Peter. They met in algebra class, and it was love at first sight. Rebecca Slater, the most popular girl in the 7th grade, had even called them the cutest couple in the school. They had been going out for three entire months, essentially an eternity, and then the center of my mother's entire world rejected her. He called her needy and clingy. He shied away from her when she, with her shattered heart, began to cry. 
 
 Her pain was so great that it took physical manifestation, and thus I came to exist. And all I feel is what she felt that cool spring evening at Thomas Adams' birthday party when her heart was ripped out of her chest by the love of her life. All I do is feel that hurt. 
 
 I was born to hurt. All I feel is hurt. All I do is hurt. My purpose is to hurt Peter McDonnell. 

