Veiled

Alone.
Loneliness.
That was her week point, you see the difference between me being lonely and her is the fact I have myself so I can never be lonely, but her? She's lent herself to so many people, been so kind and helpful, she no longer has herself. So if I make her alone, she'll be LONELY. And she'll hate that.
I chuckled and propped my elbows upon the sleek finish of my desk, the ink dripping in droplets from my pen that hovered over the parchment.
1.Destroy job's
2.Destroy friendships
That was all I could think of for the moment – I was so caught up in the whirl wind of excitement, how fun this shall be!
I didn't expect her to fight back, which is why I was all so very shocked when father tapped on the door and poked his head in, a look of dismay on his face.
“YOU!” he roared, his voice wobbling my china ornaments.
“Father.” I addressed, wondering what on earth as wrong. “I was just coming down -”
“Don't you give me that.” he chucked a letter on my bed.

Sir Luvvet,
I really do show my concern for your daughter, I do believe that wondering the streets by the paper mill on a Friday night is not really a healthy place for some one of her position to be seen in. You must control her to keep her reputation ripe.
Yours truly, Lyra

“I don't know who this fucking Lyra girl is, but she obviously saw you after you told me you were in for a early night, you lied to me and I do NOT take that lightly!” I sighed and shook my head, letting my straight blond hair rippled down my back.
“Farther. This Lyra girl is simply an old friend. We had a bit of falling out on my behalf, she obviously just holds a grudge after these years and trying to get me in some sort of pathetic trouble! If I was out at that time it would imply that I got a carriage without you knowing and randomly wondered round a paper mill. Why on earth would I do that? Who are you going to trust? This low life girl or your beautiful daughter?”
His stern eyes softened.
“I should trust you more.” he didn't let the word sorry come out though... oh no. He never says that.
“I'll send the maids in with the dresses.” he muttered. A couple of minutes later three maids came in, each with some glorious gowns of intricate design, beautiful.
I chose a ruby red with black jewels. It suited my blond hair beautifully but wasn't to big at the same time. They gave me some black net gloves to go with it and ruby earrings that flashed colours of light.
The corset was even tighter and constricting than usual and light, cold finger tips crafted at my hair, piling it on curls on top of my head and two ringlets falling down my face. It took so long because my hair was so stubbornly straight. They even put a little red jewelled tiara on my head, I could hardly feel it's mental gratings through the cushion of hair. They put led on my eye lids and powdered my cheeks. Wine red lip stick. I went down the stairs, feeling like an over dressed doll. My father beamed in approval.
“Perfect, their carriage has just arrived, white and black horses you know.”
“wonderful. I'll wait in the living room.” I gave him a pearl white smile and turned my back, my eyes rolling into my skull.
A little later a man around the same age as my father and his son arrived. His son wearing a silk, royal blue waistcoat and a crisp, dark grey shirt underneath. His blazer was thrown off his shoulder. He was dashing, and he looked at me in approving down his nose. He liked poetry and art apparently, but it was probably words he used to dominate a girls mind. We had an arranged marriage and I looked forward to make it hell for him.
“You two, walk in the gardens, I do believe there is some new roses risen.”
“In winter.” I raised my eye brows at my father who instantly blossomed red.
“Lets walk,” he held an arm out for me and I grinned at him - ignoring it and skipping past down the steps to the gardens. He breathed in and followed after me.
“So, it's lovely to meet you.”
“Oh your regret saying that.” I smiled, still ahead of him, my fingers brushing the edge of the hedges letting water spray off.
He hesitated.
“You know I love art and -”
“Poetry? I've heard that many times before. Recite some of your poetry then.”
“Um, I'm not sure if that's appropriate.”
“Because you’re lying, I can see through you.” I turned and stepped towards him once we were out of view from the house.
“What's this?” I ran my fingers down his waistcoat. “It's ridiculous.” I unbuttoned it and put it round my shoulders, laughing. Then I un-tucked his shirt.
“Much better I muttered.”
“Can I undress you now?” he asked, I saw a serious glint in his eyes but his face held a jokers poison.
“It's probably more fun undressing all those whores you see every Saturday night.” I smiled at him smugly, his heart skipping a beat.
“I – I – I don't know what your -”
“If only I was a prostitute hey? Then I would believe everything you told me. You better treat me right or I'll tell your daddy your little secret.” His jaw hardened.
“I'm not bidding under your rules.”
“Suit yourself.” I skipped off again.
“Why so icy?” I turned to glare at him out of, indeed icy, eyes.
“Because I hate liars, and I'm not marrying you.”
“You don't have a choice!” he cried.
“I'll make you cancel, easy. I have a choice over my own life.” I was not marrying any humans. Suddenly his anger burst out and he shoved me into the damp bushes, right in my face.
“Your marrying me and there's nothing you can do about it you silly cunt.” I held my head up and smiled.
“Oh we'll see.”

Tonight I had two jobs now.
Well this evening. I believe she was washing up in the scullery tonight, her second job.
And then I had to deal with the pain in the arse Thomas.
“Farther. I'm out for a walk in the forest.”
“That's no place for you! Make sure it's our forest so no one else sees you! Remember to stay out of sun light, Victorian ladies should be pale and house kept.”
“Right.” I ensured, leaving for the scullery where I stripped off behind a bush then strode in.
She sensed me again, and this time fear became swollen in her voice and face.
“Oh gosh no no no! Please don't! I understand you mad, I'll do anything, please!”
“Talking to ya self Lyra? You'll go mad man soon!” a girl with dirt up to her elbows laughed at her and went on with the job.
Lyra's breath spun out of control, hyperventilating. I picked up a plate when no one was looking, beautiful china plate, expensive looking, and hurled it at the girl who had laughed at her, head.
It shattered and the girl fell to the floor, dropping the pile of plates she had, that broke underneath her and sliced into her skin. She scream and screamed and screamed, tears flooding from her eyes.
“What happened!” a short fat lady, filled with raged, waddled over.
“I laughed at her miss, for talking to herself and she smash a plate over my head!” she screamed, cradling her head. I picked up a plate and smashed it against the wall just as the lady turned her head to Lyra.
“I didn't, honestly, please you have to -”
“Call the police in!” she yelled and Lyra's eyes went wide with fear.
She'd no doubt spend the next couple of days in a prison cell to calm down.
I went out side, no feeling completely exultant, but pondering on what to do with Thomos. I pulled my clothes back on and made my way to his mansion, unseen, I was highly glad it wasn't in the country.
I sensed his arrogant mind immediately. No doubt writing poems in his room. I snickered to myself as I climbed up the back of the envy licked ivy that clung to its strong exterior. I let my eyes waver over the bottom edge of the glazed window to see him sitting on his bed head in hands, obviously trying to concentrate. I let my finger tips pull the bottom of the window so it slid up gently. And slipped in, his head flew up in alarm and he jumped to standing position. I let a snarl rip from my throat.
Must I explain how I killed him?