❝ INCOMPLETE! ❞ → SPN ✓

FOUR.

"Ooh, I do like this one!" Ophelia gushed, rifling through Sage's wardrobe. Sage hadn't stopped sniffling since the feeling of having red hot pokers forced into her lungs resurfaced. "But this one is my favourite!"

Ophelia pulled out a black skater dress, admiring the lacy peter-pan collar. She held it up against her body – Sage's body – and the fabric fell to just above her mid-thigh. She proceeded to grab a pair of spandex shorts (to cover up her underwear below the dress) and a small black cardigan.

"What do you think, Sage?" she addressed her host. "Won't it just look darling?!"

"It'll look hideous." Sage retorted to the voice in her head. In all honesty, Sage loved the outfit. The dress was one of her favourites, and the cardigan truly brought the look together. She watched Ophelia grabbing some black suede ankle boots (a pair that she absolutely adored) and a silver chained necklace, and started piecing together the final look. It was beautiful, and Sage couldn't work out why Ophelia was getting her so dressed up.

"– And I'll curl my hair..." she had already plugged in the curling wand.

"My hair." Sage corrected.

"Your hair. And I'll do a smokey eye and look so bad ass! I'm pumped for this!" By far, this was the happiest Ophelia had ever been.

"What are we doing any way?" Sage probed as Ophelia pulled on the shorts and then the dress over the top.

"None of your business." Ophelia snapped, putting black socks and the suede boots on to her feet.

"It kind of is..."

"No," Ophelia held the red-hot wand against Sage's bare skinned arm for a few seconds. "It's not."

Sage gasped in pain, but shut up nevertheless. She let Ophelia curl her hair and apply makeup (eventually putting on the cardigan and rolling up the sleeves), and then let her walk out of the door with no questions asked. She continued a vow of silence when Ophelia snapped a young boy's neck for his motorbike, and then sped through the town.

Ophelia flipped off anyone who glanced at her, revving to motorcycle and leaning further forwards. She turned a sharp left, a long right, ran a red light, skimmed the next set of traffic lights and took another right which led her to a winding series of back lanes.

"You're on the highway to hell." Ophelia sang under her breath, humming the tune. "Highway to hell."

"I thought the lyrics were: 'I'm on the highway to hell'?" Sage sat confused.

"Yeah they are, but those aren't really applicable to the current situation."

"Oh, okay." The girl had no idea what Ophelia was going on about, but ran with it nevertheless.

Ophelia made a final left before pulling up at a white-pillared house surrounded by deep corn fields and rope swing in its front garden.

"What are we doing at my parent's house? I haven't been h-" Sage cut herself off when she heard a shrill scream come from inside the house, and a cry of 'No! Not my wife!' "Mum... Papa..."

Ophelia hopped off the bike and drew in a deep breath, as if preparing for a performance on a stage. She poked herself in the eyes, and then thought about a failed murder, and soon enough: she was almost crying. Completely ignoring Sage's questions, she bounded up the front steps and crashed through the door.

The Welsh family only shared two things in common with each other: light brown hair and bright green or brown eyes. So when Sage saw a head covered with curly brown hair separated from its body, it took all of her will power not to scream out in pain. Her mother: gone.

Her father stared at her with his green eyes, blood running from his nose and mouth, with a slit through his neck. His arm was wrapped protectively around her mother, however only one hand was intact. The other was perched on the coffee table, next to a daintier amputated hand. Both were wearing a wedding band, and it took Sage a moment to register what had happened.

"Oh, you twisted bitch!" Sage accused Ophelia (who took no notice).

A whimper came from the corner of the middle of the room, and Sage saw two girls – that were slightly younger than her – huddled together with their hands bound together with a single piece of rope. They seemed to be muttering something under their breath, and Sage recognised it as a prayer of protection. Subconsciously, she found herself reciting the same prayer, begging her God to defend her family.

"Jesus, I will arise; Jesus do thou accompany me; Jesus, do thou lock my heart into thine, and let my body and my soul be commended unto thee. The Lord is crucified. May God guard and protect my senses so that misfortunes may not overcome me. In the name of God the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost."

[ngl i love ophelia okay gr8 m8.]