“I did plan on it being you. You’re special Monday,” the witch leered. “You’re special because you’re so incredibly not. I feed on pain, and I always knew I could make you suffer. Even before you had your heart broken.” The witch breathed in, eyes rolling back into her head, as if Monday’s pain were giving her orgasmic joy. “Of course Zero couldnt love you, and mark my words, he’ll leave. Now, what are you good for in life once you’re alone? If your little friends leave for college, or move away? As far as I can see, you’re nothing but muscle. A stupid piece of muscle. Really, Monday, convince me. What makes you worth anything?” 

Monday hated that this witch was in her head. She made one small, desperate attempt at finding an answer, which the witch immediately heard.

“You keep Miranda and Jess from fighting too much,” the witch cackled, “you keep Zero from thinking he’s the bad guy. You adorable little peacemaker. You think that’s power? You are nothing.” The witch seethed suddenly, eyes glowing. “You can’t keep them from leaving you, and you’re nothing on your own. So what if you’re a good friend, Monday Violette? That’s all you’ve ever been good at, and it’s not enough.”

Monday sighed very deep, all the way to her bones. She knew that evil things didn’t always lie, and that this witch was speaking disjointed truths to her. Monday knew that she loved her friends, though. And that was enough to kill this witch. 
“You’re right. It’s the only thing I’m good at”, Monday said, standing up. “So saving them will be easy.”
She felt her clothes ripping around her growing body, felt her huge legs tackle the space between her and the witch in less time than the moment between heart beats. With one swipe of her giant claws, Monday tore the head off the witch’s new body, spraying the clearing with black, tar-like blood. Monday’s body raced with adrenaline, but ultimately the act cost her no exertion. A flex, a twist, and the witch was dismembered. 
Monday stared down at the broken body, feeling no sense of victory. She wished she could find some joy within herself, but the witch had stolen that before she’d died. 

A thought came to Monday, startling her mind like cold water: bravery and goodness weren’t tickets to happiness. You weren’t brave and good in order to be happy- you were brave and good to be brave and good. And that had to be enough.

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