The Mending Girl

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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.

   "I bet you missed me," Sarah teased. Trevor could barely lift his head, so instead he mumbled incoherently. Sarah smiled devilishly and pulled a small, sharp needle out of her hair. By now, Trevor's shirt had been completely unbuttoned and his muscular chest was bare and vulnerable.

   The woman traced the needle around his muscles, but Trevor couldn't feel anything. Perfect, Sarah thought. She straightened and her wings spread out the back of her. Her eyes turned icy. Her lips twisted into an innocent smile, for this was not Sarah, this was the mending girl. The girl tore open Trevor's chest and pulled out his heart.

   She could still feel the beating of his heart as she held it lightly in her nimble hand. She examined it, and found exactly what she was looking for. She was holding Tevor's broken heart. It had a large rip through it, and the mending girl knew exactly how to fix it. She wielded her needle in her right hand, as if she were about to sew.

   The girl stabbed the needle into Trevor's broken heart, and Trevor gasped, his eyes flying open with pain. The girl paid no attention to his suffering though as she weaved her needle through his torn up heart, mending it, fixing it. She wanted to put it back together, so Trevor could be happy again. Trevor whimpered and sobbed. Without his heart in his body, he couldn't control his feelings and his brain took over.

   Trevor stumbled clumsily to the window of his apartment; he was on the fourteenth floor. He swung the window open and the drapes fluttered in the early morning breeze. The sun wasn't up yet, but it would be soon. With his eyes glazed over, emotionless, Trevor stuck his head out the window and breathed deeply. He was numb all over, and his brain was telling him to jump.

   "No!" The girl screamed at Trevor. She wasn't finished mending his heart,  she had to finish so it would be whole again. She had to finish so when Trevor found the real Sarah, he would still be able to love her. She had to work fast though, for Trevor's brain was working faster than she'd expected.

   Blood was pouring from his heart as the mending girl worked quickly and quietly. She kept glancing in Trevor's direction o make sure he hadn't left yet. Two more seams, she thought hopefully as she laboured. She had her full concentration on the heart. It had almost stopped beating entirely, and that was a sign that Trevor would be leaving very soon. The girl screamed in desperation and stabbed into the heart, making an even bigger hole in the already torn heart.

   Trevor reacted to this. He hoisted himself onto the window sill, and balanced on it in an impractical fashion. He wavered, and lost his balance.

   "Sarah, I'm coming for you, my love!" He bellowed as he fell from his window. 

   "No! No, no, no! Trevor, no!" The girl screamed and hollered as she watched in slow motion Trevor falling to his ultimate death. Just as he landed, the heart in the girl's hand stopped beating, and the blood stopped flowing. 

   She began to weep. The girl walked to the window, bloodied and worn, and dropped the heart out the window. She closed her eyes, not wanting the see Trevor's mangled and broken body lying outside. In the distance sirens wailed, and the mending girl walked away from the window, listening to the cries of horrified people as the discovered Trevor's dead body.

   The girl jumped swiftly from shadow to shadow, bare feet never touching the ground, looking for her next patient. If anyone had looked closely enough, they would have seen the white near the bottom of her dress, for the true colour of her dress was white, and the red everyone saw was dried blood of every patient she had attempted to save. The mending girl was no mender, she killed. She was an angel of death, doing wrong where she thought she was doing right.

   Very next day, Trevor's face was in the newspaper. Another suicide. Another case of a broken heart.