Number Eight

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"I have seen so many deaths

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"I have seen so many deaths. Some of me and some of others in me..."


Number Eight


"Is that your debut song?"

Faye cocked her head to the left, the fingers of her right hand drumming impatiently on the vanity table while her other hand partly covered her glossy pink lips. She stared at the awfully confident blond guy who was reflected on her dresser mirror. Inside her room filled with pink stuffs, girly clothes and multi-colored flowers, he looked out of place with his sleeveless black shirt, ripped denim pants and mud-stained cowboy boots.

"Yeah," he replied with his ever-calm, husky voice. His sky blue eyes were impassive, the lids half-closed as if in a sleepy stupor. "What do you think?"

Faye scowled at him as she closed the radio app on her smart phone. "What a load of crap. My delicate ears are bleeding."

"You're the one who told me to give it a try."

"I didn't know you sing like a frog."

He chucked a stuffed toy towards her, hitting her meticulously arranged mahogany hair.

"Jared! How dare you – you! Agh! You ruined my hair!" Her scowl deepened as she fixed it back to perfection.  The curls had fallen off the pins, tumbling pass her shoulders in a haphazard fashion. She turned around and glared at the tall young man who was casually leaning against the wall of her dressing room. He even had the nerves to cross his arms at her. Her, the great Faye Summers. Unforgivable.

Jared, with an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner, smirked lopsidedly. "Baby, you basically asked for it."

"You!" Faye stood up and stormed off her room, pausing dramatically at the door. "I'm going to report you to Ms. Leitch. She's going to reduce your projects and in a week you'll lose your work. You'll regret messing with me!"

"Ah, ah. Are you, an international sensation, trying to threaten me, a mere starter? How low could you stoop, Miss Summers? Are you that terrified of my amazing talents? Crushing a bird before it could fully spread its wings?"

He was teasing her as usual and as usual, she was having none of it.

Faye snorted as she placed her hands on her tiny waist. "How dramatic can you be? Really? Are we in some third-rate soap opera?"

"Look who's talking."

"Oh, shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"You shut up."

With a playful growl, Faye ran to him and tackled him to the floor. Jared, obviously the stronger one, rolled her over and flicked her on the forehead. "Stop fooling around. You'll rip your dress."

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