The Mending Girl
She swung in and out of the shadows swiftly, like a ninja in the night. Her dark majestic wings enabled her to float along the ground, rather than make noises as she traveled through the night. The girl, she carried needles, sharper than daggers, in her wavy straw blond hair. Her hair concealed the weapons - or as she called them, the mending tools. Her icy eyes brightened as she saw her next patient. Her nimble fingers ran themselves through her hair and she stepped to the ground, hiding her wings and revealing a blood red dress.
~ ~ ~
Trevor stumbled along the alley, away from the bar. It was late, past midnight. Trevor had spent his night drowning away his sorrows, as he had been doing for the past month. His fiancee Sarah, had been killed just last month in a tragic car accident that was the cause of drunk driving. When he'd gotten the news, something had broken inside of him. It was his heart.
He'd loved Sarah, and he still did. But now she was gone, and Trevor couldn't do anything. Sarah was gone, and he wanted to be gone too. So, every night, Trevor drank away his troubles and thought back to the time when he had proposed to his blond haired beauty. Those were the times, he would think, then he would drag himself back home and sleep away the day, visions of her death encompassing him.
As Trevor walked back to his apartment, something caught his eye. He turned his body to his right, the entrance of another alley. Within, there was a young woman with blond hair and a dark red dress walking towards him. Something about her seemed familiar to Trevor, but he couldn't tell because it was too dark. He stepped towards the woman, and his heart practically stopped in his chest.
"Trevor," She called lightly into the night. The dark haired man stopped dead in his tracks and Trevor thought his heart would snap in half. He could feel it being torn already.
"No, you can't be..." Trevor whimpered as he rubbed his eyes. The woman looked at him with love in her eyes and a comforting smile on her face.
"It is, Trevor. Its me, Sarah." She gestured with her arm for him to come near. No, Trevor thought, this couldn't be Sarah. Sarah had died in October. It was November now, and she was buried six feet under. But Trevor, drunk and foolish, disregarded that thought and limped over to her, his eyes misty with tears.
"Sarah, I missed you," He gave her a broken smile, tears trickling down his cheeks. The woman smiled at him and held her hand out for him to take. He noticed that she had no shoes, but he knew Sarah had always been a carefree girl, so nothing registered as odd to him. He was just bursting with happiness and surprise, he felt like shouting it out to the whole world.
"Let's go for a drink, my love."
Trevor nodded and took his gorgeous fiancee by the hand and she lead him down the alley to their apartment. She quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Trevor couldn't keep the broken smile from his face as he watched her move around the apartment. It was as if she had never died. As if nothing had changed.
Sarah smirked as she went into the wine cellar. She couldn't wait to fix him, she couldn't wait to mend her dear Trevor's heart. The red dressed woman grabbed a large bottle of whisky and some red wine as well, and headed back towards where she'd left the poor broken man.
Trevor smiled as Sarah came back into the room with her favourite wine and a nice bottle of whisky - his favourite. "Sarah," He whispered. "Sarah, come to me, dear." Trevor watched as she swayed her hips modestly while walking towards him. She sat down on his lap and put a glass of whisky in his hand.
"Drink up," Sarah batted her eyelashes. Trevor immediately downed the drink. His eyes watered and his vision blurred but he didn't mind. Anything for Sarah, he thought wistfully.
Sarah brought her nimble fingers to Trevor's chest, and unbuttoned his shirt. Trevor grinned and watched as she did this. 'Have another drink," She requested. Trevor sipped back another glass, and then another. He had to have had three or four, he reckoned now. That was an understatement. By the time it was almost morning, Trevor had drunk almost the whole bottle. Sarah had forced it into him.