The Hunt [#Eqvirther2K #CreateACharacter]

The Huntress (Estelle) Manche nennen es Leben. Ich nenne es Überleben. Früher haben sie mich gefangen gehalten. Zimmer ohne Namen, Wände ohne Fenster, Männer, die nahmen, weil sie glaubten, das Recht zu haben. Der Körper blieb. Der Geist verschwand. Irgendwann hörte ich auf, zu atmen. Irgendwann hörte ich auf, zu sein. Dann kam der Wechsel. Keine Erlösung. Kein Aufschrei. Nur ein Schnitt in der Stille. Ich begann zu sehen, wo andere blind sind: die Hitze unter der Haut, das Zittern in der Stimme, den Hunger, der sie verrät. Ich warte auf diesen Moment. Immer. Der Blick, der zu lange verweilt. Die Hand, die zu weit geht. Der Atem, der kippt. Dann entscheiden sie nicht mehr. Dann gehören sie mir. Sie glauben, sie hätten mich gefunden. Sie glauben, sie führen. Doch jeder Schritt, jede Straße führt nur dahin, wo ich längst war. Die Nacht kennt meinen Namen. Die Stadt blutet in meinem Rhythmus. Und ich nehme nur, was mir zuerst genommen wurde. Ich jage nicht aus Vergnügen. Ich gleiche nur aus, was nie hätte zerbrechen dürfen. Das ist der Preis. Und am Ende bezahlen ihn alle. [Intro] "They think they choose me. But I chose them first. They built me to serve. I learned to consume." [Verse 1] Men didn’t come one by one. They arrived like bad weather. Grey suits, wet collars, no faces shown, smelly like last night’s gin and old leather. Some asked for my name they never remembered, others stared full of shame like it made me less human if they didn’t ask, nothin to ruin. First touch tore apart, second burned. By the third, the body stopped fighting the pain. The mirrors taught silence. The walls taught numbness. The mouth learned nothing but how to disappear in bitterness. [Pre-Chorus] Some nights, the streets choose the victim. Other nights, the blade does. And still they follow, it’s given, thinking it’s their idea — too much trust. [Hook] I find them in whispers, keep them in sleep. Promise them heaven, but the price runs deep. They follow the perfume, they follow the light… and never once ask who’s hunting tonight. [Drop] [Bridge] "They come. They pay. They come. They stay." [Verse 2] Followed their eyes, not their words. Every twitch, every slip rehearsed, every vein giving away what the mouth tried to sell day by day. There is a point, so close where pleasure becomes a weapon. It isn’t hate. It isn’t love. It’s something colder that steps in that tastes like control ready to reckon. It started as fate. It became a game. Each gasp, each shiver not theirs anymore. Blood runs like a river ready to open this door. Open their sins and obsessions, believe me, there were too many confessions. Studied the tremor that men try to hide in their sick minds forever when they think they’ve bought mine. [Pre-Chorus] Some nights, the streets choose the victim. Other nights, the blade does. And still they follow, it’s given, thinking it’s their idea — too much trust. [Hook] I find them in whispers, keep them in sleep. Promise them heaven, but the price runs deep. They follow the perfume, they follow the light… and never once ask who’s hunting tonight. [Bridge] "After a while, the body stops asking. After a while, the body becomes public." [Verse 3] A thousand beds. A thousand pulses. And still the body insists there is more to take, the body convulses. A thousand mouths, a thousand bones. A thousand men who thought they chose. It isn’t about them anymore. It’s about what’s missing. And the missing keeps growing, escapes its prison. It isn’t killing. It’s subtraction. One less hand. One less voice. One less night. One less action pretending to still have a choice. [Drop] [Final Hook] I find them in whispers, keep them in sleep. Promise them heaven, but the price runs deep. They follow the perfume, they follow the light… and never once ask who’s hunting tonight. Didn’t pick them. I collected them. Never tried to blend ’em, only had to condemn.