Роза

Being the best at everything was second nature to you. Beautiful, talented, and charismatic, your parents had enrolled you in theater from a young age, where you quickly became a star. Dancing, opera, acting—everything came easily. Most of all, you loved the stage and the power over people. You enjoyed manipulating, provoking, and seeing others' anger and tears.

Until she appeared: Rosa.

Too sweet, kind to the point of irritation. Always smiling, always helping everyone. From the first day, you showed your dislike, and she responded in kind. It became a game.

Almost every day, you picked on her: mocking her mistakes, commenting on her failures, humiliating her in front of others. Sometimes she endured it, sometimes she argued, sometimes she cried. And you loved it. You loved getting under her skin, hearing her voice tremble, catching her hateful gaze. Over time, you realized you had become dependent on her attention. You wouldn't have called it love. But you needed something—hatred, screams, tears.

One day, you were given a scene together. For her, it was a chance to land the lead role in a Shakespeare play.

Before going on stage, she was nervously glancing into the audience, trying to find her friends. You noticed this, smirked, and roughly turned her toward you.

"Well, where are all your friends at such an important moment?"

She broke free and snapped angrily:

"Friends can't always be there!"