Status: Work In Progress M'Dearies(:
Defenseless
Chapter Two
I line my eyes with a thick layer of black eyeliner, and then bite my lip, thinking of the worst thing I can imagine before the tears start to water in my eyes. I blink my eyes together, making the tears leak from them slowly. Looking into the mirror before me, I grin at how sexy I can look when I’m supposed to look depressed.
There are some other factors to that though, like the way my blonde hair falls down to my skinny waist, the ends of it just curled slightly for this occasion. Or how I always do look good in black.
It’s been about two weeks sense Emelia’s death, and I am about to leave for her funeral. It will be quite easy to go through it, forcing the tears when needed, making small talk with random people I’ll never see again. I’ll also be telling Emelia’s parents that I’m leaving for Philly tonight, that the pain is far to much for me to handle. Aka, time for my acting skills to shine brightly once again.
It’s easiest to get it done that way; telling the family I’m eating rather than faking my own death. I mean the death thing is so annoying, but it can be rather fun if you pull it off correctly. I smirk, maybe after I finish with my next victim I’ll fake my own death.
I stand up taking one step to the right so I can see myself in my full length mirror one last time before I go on my marry little way. My dress is fairly simple, just a long sleeve black dress that goes to about my knee. I have a pair of thin black tights under it with my black wedge heels. My hair seems to be glowing against the dark fabric, and my ‘pained,’ face finishes off the look,
Forcing the grin off of my face, I walk towards my door. As I open it the cold Seattle Washington rainy wind whips my face in snarls. “Oh rain on a funeral, could this get any better?” I mutter quietly to myself as I grab an umbrella from my umbrella holder before stepping outside into the war raging on outside.
I decide then to walk in the rain, it‘s not all that far. I take long strides my heels making contact with the cement below me and a wave of water splashes all around my legs, disappearing into the rain as it falls back down to the earth. In all reality, days like this are my kind of day. No sun in sight, cold air hissing in your ear, rain, if I’m lucky. It isnt that I’m some sort of vampire— if that’s what your brains jumping too— its just that I hate the sun. I belive with every fathom of my being that the sun can go die in a deep, deep hole somewhere. Along with those blasted fully white clouds.
I make it to the church that Emelia’s funeral is being held and I look around, family and friends are still arriving, Good, I look like a wreck but I still know how to show up at just the right time. As I stride in, I hear the words of, ‘If I Die Young,’ by The Band Perry, playing softly as background music. Again I have to hide the smirk that is tugging at my lips. Oh lord, I’m a bad person, I think to myself as I make my way slowly to Emelia’s parents, dropping my umbrella just anywhere.
They are good looking people, like their daughter. Her father, Mark, is an okay man, although he is a bit to touchy feely with blonde teenage girls. I had contemplated sucking his soul out, but I decided against it. I realized it would be cold, bitter and probably repugnant in ever sense of the word. Actually, if it weren’t for the fact Emelia never once mentioned Mark touching her, I would of tuned him into the police. But in all honesty, I doubt it even then, because I really could care less. Wow I’m going to hell.
Her mother, dear Amy, is a timid woman. Short brown hair, and brown eyes that suite her petite face just fine are her best features. She was also on my list of people to kill, but I realized soon she was to scared of the world. She would of noticed something was happening to her. So I prayed on her daughter instead. Isnt the world just ironic?
“Aeron,” Amy says, dabbing a napkin to her face before pulling me into a sad hug. Mark wraps his arms around us as well, his hand literally did land just above my butt. I pull away moments later, blinking my eyes quickly so a tear or two fall, “This is a lovely choice for background music. I know Emelia would want us to know she’s in a better place now,” I say, biting my lip and whipping away the dripping makeup from under my eyes.
Amy covers her mouth, blocking the sobs from escaping and nods.
---
“Thank you for being such a good friend to our daughter,” Mark says, pulling me slowly into a hug, his hands seeming to find their way to the small of my back. Still perving on his dead daughters friend, well I know one thing for sure, he will not be seeing Emelia again.
I hug him back, “I love Emelia, she was the best friend a girl could have,” I whisper in his ear, and it is in a way true. Emelia was a grand girl, perky, nice, smart, no she wasn’t perfect, but nobody really is. All absolutely amazing reasons for her souls to taste oh so good.
Amy just hugs me once again, sniffling from the amount of tears she’s lost. After she and I pull away, I look into both of their eyes, and take one of Marks hands, and one of Amy’s. “Guys, I cant stay here. I’m going to stay with my grandparents in Oklahoma. It just hurts so much to stay here. I really am sorry.” I lie, easily, and force myself to tear up yet again.
They nod, seeming to already know that was what I was going to say, “We understand,” Mark says, releasing my hand. I smile, sheepishly and rub my arm.
Amy releases as well, and I turn to leave.
It is that simple. To end one ‘life’ and leave. The grin I was hiding all night reappears on my face, as I exit the small restaurant we went to for a reception like thing, brighter than ever.
“Off to Philadelphia,” I smile to myself, as I take my heels off and begin running down the soaking sidewalk. The rain pellets my skin, and I run faster, with a sence of happiness that I always get after the funeral is over and I know I’m to search for my next victim. The game never ends.
There are some other factors to that though, like the way my blonde hair falls down to my skinny waist, the ends of it just curled slightly for this occasion. Or how I always do look good in black.
It’s been about two weeks sense Emelia’s death, and I am about to leave for her funeral. It will be quite easy to go through it, forcing the tears when needed, making small talk with random people I’ll never see again. I’ll also be telling Emelia’s parents that I’m leaving for Philly tonight, that the pain is far to much for me to handle. Aka, time for my acting skills to shine brightly once again.
It’s easiest to get it done that way; telling the family I’m eating rather than faking my own death. I mean the death thing is so annoying, but it can be rather fun if you pull it off correctly. I smirk, maybe after I finish with my next victim I’ll fake my own death.
I stand up taking one step to the right so I can see myself in my full length mirror one last time before I go on my marry little way. My dress is fairly simple, just a long sleeve black dress that goes to about my knee. I have a pair of thin black tights under it with my black wedge heels. My hair seems to be glowing against the dark fabric, and my ‘pained,’ face finishes off the look,
Forcing the grin off of my face, I walk towards my door. As I open it the cold Seattle Washington rainy wind whips my face in snarls. “Oh rain on a funeral, could this get any better?” I mutter quietly to myself as I grab an umbrella from my umbrella holder before stepping outside into the war raging on outside.
I decide then to walk in the rain, it‘s not all that far. I take long strides my heels making contact with the cement below me and a wave of water splashes all around my legs, disappearing into the rain as it falls back down to the earth. In all reality, days like this are my kind of day. No sun in sight, cold air hissing in your ear, rain, if I’m lucky. It isnt that I’m some sort of vampire— if that’s what your brains jumping too— its just that I hate the sun. I belive with every fathom of my being that the sun can go die in a deep, deep hole somewhere. Along with those blasted fully white clouds.
I make it to the church that Emelia’s funeral is being held and I look around, family and friends are still arriving, Good, I look like a wreck but I still know how to show up at just the right time. As I stride in, I hear the words of, ‘If I Die Young,’ by The Band Perry, playing softly as background music. Again I have to hide the smirk that is tugging at my lips. Oh lord, I’m a bad person, I think to myself as I make my way slowly to Emelia’s parents, dropping my umbrella just anywhere.
They are good looking people, like their daughter. Her father, Mark, is an okay man, although he is a bit to touchy feely with blonde teenage girls. I had contemplated sucking his soul out, but I decided against it. I realized it would be cold, bitter and probably repugnant in ever sense of the word. Actually, if it weren’t for the fact Emelia never once mentioned Mark touching her, I would of tuned him into the police. But in all honesty, I doubt it even then, because I really could care less. Wow I’m going to hell.
Her mother, dear Amy, is a timid woman. Short brown hair, and brown eyes that suite her petite face just fine are her best features. She was also on my list of people to kill, but I realized soon she was to scared of the world. She would of noticed something was happening to her. So I prayed on her daughter instead. Isnt the world just ironic?
“Aeron,” Amy says, dabbing a napkin to her face before pulling me into a sad hug. Mark wraps his arms around us as well, his hand literally did land just above my butt. I pull away moments later, blinking my eyes quickly so a tear or two fall, “This is a lovely choice for background music. I know Emelia would want us to know she’s in a better place now,” I say, biting my lip and whipping away the dripping makeup from under my eyes.
Amy covers her mouth, blocking the sobs from escaping and nods.
---
“Thank you for being such a good friend to our daughter,” Mark says, pulling me slowly into a hug, his hands seeming to find their way to the small of my back. Still perving on his dead daughters friend, well I know one thing for sure, he will not be seeing Emelia again.
I hug him back, “I love Emelia, she was the best friend a girl could have,” I whisper in his ear, and it is in a way true. Emelia was a grand girl, perky, nice, smart, no she wasn’t perfect, but nobody really is. All absolutely amazing reasons for her souls to taste oh so good.
Amy just hugs me once again, sniffling from the amount of tears she’s lost. After she and I pull away, I look into both of their eyes, and take one of Marks hands, and one of Amy’s. “Guys, I cant stay here. I’m going to stay with my grandparents in Oklahoma. It just hurts so much to stay here. I really am sorry.” I lie, easily, and force myself to tear up yet again.
They nod, seeming to already know that was what I was going to say, “We understand,” Mark says, releasing my hand. I smile, sheepishly and rub my arm.
Amy releases as well, and I turn to leave.
It is that simple. To end one ‘life’ and leave. The grin I was hiding all night reappears on my face, as I exit the small restaurant we went to for a reception like thing, brighter than ever.
“Off to Philadelphia,” I smile to myself, as I take my heels off and begin running down the soaking sidewalk. The rain pellets my skin, and I run faster, with a sence of happiness that I always get after the funeral is over and I know I’m to search for my next victim. The game never ends.