What Do You Mean? (AMBW & BBW) CLS 2

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What Do You Mean? A Cliche Love Story; Chapter 30

Raevyn's P.O.V

     The psychopath stood opposite of me, her dark eyes seemingly shifting in shade. From grey to brown before settling on a charcoal black. My legs were confined and tied to the chair causing me to grimace in pain. But I gave her no satisfaction in knowing this, instead, I fixed her with a glare.

    "It's the twenty-first century shouldn't you kill me over an advancement opportunity and not over a boy?" I ask, my voice void of all emotion. She had called Levi about thirty minutes ago, and my legs had lost feeling from sitting so long. Paresthesia begins to settle in my legs, eating away at my body's presence.

      She rolled her eyes, "feminism is not essential in every crisis. I've killed for less." She stood playing with one of the jars, which to my horror were eyeballs. She rolled them around and around, creating a whirlwind of white in blue liquid. It was gross, and I knew from the placid expression she held, that she was sick in the head.

   "How many?" I question, glancing away from her fixation.

She looks up, "how many what?"

    "People." I retort, "how many people have you killed?" I ask, looking at her, awaiting an answer.

She stares at me carefully before answering, "thirteen." she replies her bob cut swinging over her eyes, blocking her face from me. She shifts before continuing, "my aunt would bring me with to clean up the filth that ran amok due to the law enforcement." Alanna places the jar down and grabs the next one filled with brown eyes and green liquid. She glances at me, waiting for me to interrupt, but I stay silent.

      "She had my brother, and I help her carve their bodies with the wrongs they did." Her finger slowly traces the jar, drawing on the glass. "The eyes were the one thing that I could do whatever I pleased with."

I knit my eyebrows in confusion, "your brother?"

She nods, "my twin brother. He died during the capture of Jonie Curtis, the sixth person. She had a pistol and shot him before we could restrain her."

She sniffles, and I notice tears fall from her eyes, "we couldn't even have a proper funeral. My aunt said it would cause suspicion, so we told everyone he moved to my grandmother's. He's in the back." She glances out the window, "always close." She whispers. "Always close." She blinks away the tears and sits the gun down on the table opposite me, and I peer at it while she is distracted.

How the heck was I going to get it?

Alanna clears her throat before fixing her eyes on me, and momentarily I see the decent human she could have been. I see the poor innocent girl who was robbed of a childhood and life. I see her- just before she erases her face of emotions. "I love Levi." She smiles, a tear running down her cheek. "And I will kill you. Nothing can stand in our way. He is far too important to me. He understands me." She places the jar down on the wooden table with enough force to shake it, moving the gun.

I feel anger rise in me. Levi didn't love her, if he had, he would not have taken me out or spent so much time with me. At the very least she was a puppet, an item to be used and discarded later, just like he used me.

      "The only thing he understands is that you're crazy!" I shout, my anger dropping unto her like venom. She stares at me, her face twisted into a snarl. "I'm not crazy. I do what the justice system has no guts to do!" She rebuttals, her voice raising an octave.

       "And what about your recent killings, huh? Was that for justice or just for your selfish gain?!" The lives lost were starting to add up quickly. Her roster of innocent people crumbled families, ruined lives, and drove people I loved out of the city. She was a sick person willing to use her malicious deeds in the supposed name of the law.

      "I just want to be seen!" She screams, "Living in that house was suffocating. I didn't want to become who I am, but I had no choice!"

I shake my head, drinking in her unkempt figure. She was slender and pretty, but she was hollow on the inside. She was no longer human. Instead, she had evolved into a personification of hate. Alanna couldn't see the harm that she was doing. "Everyone has a choice." I retorted, glaring at her.

She narrows her eyes, her breath ragged as she points her delicate finger at me, but before she can continue her tirade, a small sound echoes from outside. She glances at the side of the shelter at the sudden sound. The noise came from the door, and I follow her movements hoping that it was someone to help and not another crazy person.

       "I have to pee." I blurt, at the sudden weight, I felt in my bladder. I started tapping my leg against the wooden floor for emphasis.

Alanna raises an eyebrow at me annoyed, but the noise is now forgotten as she walks over. Undoing the rope around my legs, she hesitates, probably thinking about how she would allow me to pee without untying me completely. For her to have assisted with so many murders she sure was uncertain about things. I assume that the victims were probably already dead, and way less of a hassle.

As she bends, her face is near my legs, raising my thigh, I knee her. The force was good enough for her to stumble back. I lifted myself, my legs feeling like pins and needles, because of inactivity. I quickly move with the chair attached to my upper half and toss my body at her.

Alanna falls and I look for the gun, the presence unknown after I knocked her off her feet. I quickly pull my wrist out of the ropes, my wrists burning like wood in a fire. I drop the chair as it clatters to the floor, spotting the gun under the jars of eyes, I lurch for it. Just as I am scrambling for it, with my aching wrists, Alanna pushes me. I fall into the table filled with orbs causing them to crash. The glasses hit the floor shattering, allowing the liquid that had preserved them to ooze unto the wooden floors. As I lay there my breaths were uneven, and the liquid begins to run along my skin. My body collapsed as it pools around me. Alanna approaches me her image slightly blurring as my head buzzes. She grabs the gun, the black steel level in her hands as she raises it, pointing it at me. The black hole of cessation glares at me, edging on a new world, death. I sharply exhale, willing my body to move, but exhaustion overtakes it.

       "If you kill me-" I croak, "you'll never get the satisfaction of knowing he loves you more than me." I level, this was a big gamble. She could shoot me here and not think twice, just like the others, and scoop out my eyeballs, preserving them like jelly in a jar. And if I were dead, no one would be there to help grandma out. To bail Quincy out of his troubles, or dutifully watch Zacora. My mother would shrivel under the bottle like Dracula in the sun. She'd be the sunken soul with no one to coax her from her death sentence. I shut my eyes oh Jesus, please let this work.

She stills.

Her head cocks to the side mirroring the gun in her hand. "Good point."

I let out a small breath. I was buying more time if only someone would come-

    "-But." She smiles a sadistic smile. Her lips curved, and her teeth look menacing, she becomes beastly. An apex predator on the hunt for prey, enjoying every moment it squeals for its life. "...you don't need your eyes to hear that."

                                                             And then a shot is fired.

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Unedited 

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