Velvet Stars.
Chapter five. Death. Rosalind.
I look back on my life as if it was some body else's. Things seem so horrifyingly different now it makes me want to scream into the pits of night where the blackness seethes the darkest.
There was once this very pretty little girl. Her wild mahogany hair was in a bob and she always had her favourite purple dress on.
It sound like a child's book. The ones with the vibrant pictures and patronizing letters.
She had a kind and loving mother who looked like an older sister, full of youth and warmth. Her husband was successful in running his own business. He was a control freak but she loved him very much and always looked up to him. Her daughter was a diamond on a ring on her finger, the happiness was alive. She was a full time mum.
Now this is the bit when the cartoons turn nasty and the children reading the book start to bawl, it keeps them awake at night and when they do drift off, it clouds their dreams with horrifying images and cuts a wound inside their mind that forever bleeds.
The little girl goes round to play with her loving friends after school so mother goes out to see what daddy's work is all about. She get bitten by a vampire but daddy doesn't know, he just thought she got very badly hurt.
When he bought her home he saw the lacerations in the side of her tender neck and killed her with out hesitation. From that day on the little girl dropped out of school for private tutoring and suffered under the constant rule of her farther. With her mother murdered by her farther (but by doing so got away with it because it was his job), the little girls future was doomed. The end.
Awww, what a lovely little story. The job part will become clear. As you can imagine, I hate my life.
With this last thought I slammed my fist on my bed. I was sixteen in one week. To most people 16 is when freedom starts. To me its when my freedom ends. Of course my farther will expect me to join his stupid club, oh sorry, organisation. I've already been to the H.Q and met the team, read the files on what they do.
Do I seem like a killer? Not to mention i'm terrified of them, the things that we hunt.
But the thing that haunted me the most is that what happened to my mother is so possible to happen to me.
I curled on my bed and put my arms round my knees, compressing all my anger and thoughts so I wouldn't explode and smash things in my room. My two budgies started squawking as if they sensed my mood and I sat up and screamed “SHUT UP!” they fluttered around in surprise before I stood up and slammed the door behind me. Just as I reached the bottom my farther came in the door, he stared at me square in the face, “what are you doing?” he snapped.
“Am I not allowed to walk round my own house?”i hissed full of attitude and hate from my bad mood before. And then I realised I'd let my perfect attitude I normally put on for him. He slapped me across my face with a meaty crack, hard enough I felt it splitting through my skull (not literally), hard enough to leave a bruise. He tightened his eyes.
“Pardon.” I suppressed my self from wiping his spit off my face and crying and replied in a wobbly voice, “lunch.”
“Good. Stupid, worthless piece of shit.” you know what? I didn't care. It was only of matter of time until I committed suicide. I really wanted to stare at him and tell his body to die, watch his body crumple, his bones shatter and his eyes roll. I felt a spike of evil whip through my body at the thought. But it made me smile through the tears all the same. I made up a sandwich and a cup of tea then sat on the table nibbling at it as he stamped upstairs.
After I had finished my sandwich he came into the kitchen, “I'm going. If any one asks about you careless bruise, you tripped, didn't you.”
“Yes,”
“yes what.” I felt I shudder run through my body. “Yes Daddy.” sometimes I wondered if my farther had some sort of undiscovered mental health problem.
He nodded and left the room making me crouch down on the floor and putting my head between my legs. I wasn't going to cry. I had learnt to swallow my tears and cry inside, but the pain, melancholy and agony had started to eat me alive inside out. I could feel in gnawing at my insides, trying to fill me with its emptiness. Suddenly I exploded. Everything that had built up that morning was let loose. I screamed and ran round the house. Every living thing a saw I told it to die. Die, die, die, die. Life! It was a pathetic gift. I hate it! Which I why everything must DIE.
I must of sounded like a crazy maniac planning to rule the world as I ran round. I scooped up stairs and didn't even hesitate as I killed my budgies.
And I could sense the black space of death filling the house and crowding down on me, pressing and I felt my breath falter as I tried to suck in the air that wasn't there. I felt my insides turn and realised blood was trickling from my eyes, nose and ears and I screamed as I ran to the toilet and vomited my guts out until I felt lifeless and collapsed on the bathroom floor in my own blood and sick and let the blackness fill me and numb the pain.
There was once this very pretty little girl. Her wild mahogany hair was in a bob and she always had her favourite purple dress on.
It sound like a child's book. The ones with the vibrant pictures and patronizing letters.
She had a kind and loving mother who looked like an older sister, full of youth and warmth. Her husband was successful in running his own business. He was a control freak but she loved him very much and always looked up to him. Her daughter was a diamond on a ring on her finger, the happiness was alive. She was a full time mum.
Now this is the bit when the cartoons turn nasty and the children reading the book start to bawl, it keeps them awake at night and when they do drift off, it clouds their dreams with horrifying images and cuts a wound inside their mind that forever bleeds.
The little girl goes round to play with her loving friends after school so mother goes out to see what daddy's work is all about. She get bitten by a vampire but daddy doesn't know, he just thought she got very badly hurt.
When he bought her home he saw the lacerations in the side of her tender neck and killed her with out hesitation. From that day on the little girl dropped out of school for private tutoring and suffered under the constant rule of her farther. With her mother murdered by her farther (but by doing so got away with it because it was his job), the little girls future was doomed. The end.
Awww, what a lovely little story. The job part will become clear. As you can imagine, I hate my life.
With this last thought I slammed my fist on my bed. I was sixteen in one week. To most people 16 is when freedom starts. To me its when my freedom ends. Of course my farther will expect me to join his stupid club, oh sorry, organisation. I've already been to the H.Q and met the team, read the files on what they do.
Do I seem like a killer? Not to mention i'm terrified of them, the things that we hunt.
But the thing that haunted me the most is that what happened to my mother is so possible to happen to me.
I curled on my bed and put my arms round my knees, compressing all my anger and thoughts so I wouldn't explode and smash things in my room. My two budgies started squawking as if they sensed my mood and I sat up and screamed “SHUT UP!” they fluttered around in surprise before I stood up and slammed the door behind me. Just as I reached the bottom my farther came in the door, he stared at me square in the face, “what are you doing?” he snapped.
“Am I not allowed to walk round my own house?”i hissed full of attitude and hate from my bad mood before. And then I realised I'd let my perfect attitude I normally put on for him. He slapped me across my face with a meaty crack, hard enough I felt it splitting through my skull (not literally), hard enough to leave a bruise. He tightened his eyes.
“Pardon.” I suppressed my self from wiping his spit off my face and crying and replied in a wobbly voice, “lunch.”
“Good. Stupid, worthless piece of shit.” you know what? I didn't care. It was only of matter of time until I committed suicide. I really wanted to stare at him and tell his body to die, watch his body crumple, his bones shatter and his eyes roll. I felt a spike of evil whip through my body at the thought. But it made me smile through the tears all the same. I made up a sandwich and a cup of tea then sat on the table nibbling at it as he stamped upstairs.
After I had finished my sandwich he came into the kitchen, “I'm going. If any one asks about you careless bruise, you tripped, didn't you.”
“Yes,”
“yes what.” I felt I shudder run through my body. “Yes Daddy.” sometimes I wondered if my farther had some sort of undiscovered mental health problem.
He nodded and left the room making me crouch down on the floor and putting my head between my legs. I wasn't going to cry. I had learnt to swallow my tears and cry inside, but the pain, melancholy and agony had started to eat me alive inside out. I could feel in gnawing at my insides, trying to fill me with its emptiness. Suddenly I exploded. Everything that had built up that morning was let loose. I screamed and ran round the house. Every living thing a saw I told it to die. Die, die, die, die. Life! It was a pathetic gift. I hate it! Which I why everything must DIE.
I must of sounded like a crazy maniac planning to rule the world as I ran round. I scooped up stairs and didn't even hesitate as I killed my budgies.
And I could sense the black space of death filling the house and crowding down on me, pressing and I felt my breath falter as I tried to suck in the air that wasn't there. I felt my insides turn and realised blood was trickling from my eyes, nose and ears and I screamed as I ran to the toilet and vomited my guts out until I felt lifeless and collapsed on the bathroom floor in my own blood and sick and let the blackness fill me and numb the pain.