TWO
EVERYTHING AROUND HER WAS UP IN FLAMES. Well, in a metaphorical sense. There were no flames surrounding her, but in all honesty, she would have much rather had that than the scene before her. Rather than be in a situation that she couldn't control, one where she held no power. A situation where she wasn't the chaos, but the chaos was around her.
For as long as she could remember, she was the girl who caused trouble. The girl good students and good people alike avoided at all costs. The girl that parents saw as a demon, the girl her own parents saw as a crazed girl. A girl who had no care for anything going on around her as long as she had a drink in hand and a boy or girl to grind against.
She was intricate web of beauty and deception, and everyone - no matter how good they were - always wanted to take a peak at the girl of destruction. Everyone saw a beautiful face, and thought they could fix her. When they saw her beautiful brown eyes and sweet smile, they saw a broken, self destructive girl. And yes, maybe she was creating her own destruction, but that was her choice. Everyone thought that they could be the one to catch her before she fell to her obliteration, thought that they could be the one to put together all of her pieces.
But when was she ever broken in the first place? It was always an assumption someone made about her. She wasn't broken, not in the slightest. She had a knack for getting in trouble, but that didn't mean she didn't still make honor roll and whatnot. Sure, she had her fair share of detentions and had a few run ins with the law, but she was tired of being a pawn in the game of life. She was sick of sitting still and not acting, so she took her life into her own hands. She chose to have fun, and anyone who thought that meant she was broken could be damned. What she was though, was misunderstood.
Yes, in every sense of the word, she adored chaos and destruction and disorder, but only as long as she was the one to create it. As she took in her surroundings now, she realized that maybe her love for destruction and insanity was not something to be proud of, and maybe that was because the mess at hand was far out of her control.
Her hands found themselves knotted in her hair, tearing feverishly at the strands as a scream clawed at the back of her throat. It became raw and strained and her knees began to lock from beneath her. She thought if she could tear herself out of her skin, out of this body, that none of this would be happening. That if she was no longer herself, she wouldn't feel this immense pain and suffering. She wouldn't be overwhelmed with the need to scream until there was no air left in her. She wouldn't want to deflate, becoming nothing but a shell of something that once was.
Her knees buckled in sheer shock and terror, and her body slowly swayed as if she were a twig against the winds of a hurricane. All at once, she collapsed, her body giving out from under her. Her hands fell to the ground, and she found that the space beneath her wasn't solid ground, but the warm body of someone beside her.
That was all she could see around her. She was surrounded by the bloodied, mangled corpses of everyone she knew. In the distance she could see her ex girlfriend crumpled in a heap, bruises coating her tanned skin. A deep blue on tan, and she could see the droplets of stray blood plastered along her skin. The crimson mixed with the blues, creating the most disturbing carnage. To her left, she could see the face of her mother, her head busted open, skull clearly caved in. Her facial features had sunk in, and her skin was stained red as the blood flowed. It flowed and flowed and flowed. She was surrounded by anyone and everyone who she had once held an attachment to, all of them surrounding her, but none of them breathing.
None of them breathing except for whoever she was currently clutching. She let out a shuddering sob as she felt rise and fall of their chest, and she could hardly bring herself to look at their face. While she knew that they were alive, she could still feel the thick, hot blood that not only coated their chest, but now her hands.
She had always been able to handle crazy, handle insanity, but this was too much for her. This wasn't fun or exhilarating, this was terror and horror and destruction. Pure, absolute destruction.
Hot, salty tears rolled down her cheeks, but her throat screamed with the sobs she was holding back. She was beginning to find it difficult to see through her tear blurred vision, and was brought back to reality when a trembling hand reached up, cupping her cheek. The person in her arms tilted her head down, making her look at them.
"J - James," she breathed, her eyes falling upon the beaten and battered face of her current boyfriend. Blood was matted in the curly, brown hair she adored so much. His right eye was swollen, a purple hue beginning to paint his skin. She released a shaky breath, her eyes scanning his features as she ran her shaking fingers along his cheek. Her fingers were paint brushes, leaving traces of crimson along his pale skin.
Wasn't it only minutes ago that the two of them were on a date? It only felt like it was seconds since his arms were wrapped around her waist, and she was running her slim fingers through his hair. How did this happen? What had changed in only a few moments?
She pressed the edge of a cigarette in between her lips, only to soon pull it away and release a slow, drawn out drag. She watched as the smoke billowed up, swirling around her. An arm wound itself around her waist, the boy beside her pulling her into his chest. She giggled, running her fingers through the bouncy brown curls of his hair. A few stray strands had fallen in front of his eyes, and he smiled as she pushed them back affectionately.
The boy in front of her stared at her with the uttermost adoration and dedication. He was so inexorably in the love with the girl in front of her, and anyone within a twenty five mile radius could see that. Then again, who couldn't be in love with her? She was illusive and mysterious and gorgeous. Even with her silky black hair tied into a knot behind her head and in a pair of sweats, she was still breathtakingly stunning. At least, she was to him. And she was beautiful on all standards. She had silky black hair, and a smile crafted by the gods themselves. She also held herself in an air of confidence, proud of her Korean heritage.
Her beautiful features weren't the only things that drew boys and girls alike in, it was the air of rebellion that hung around her. She was the type of girl that parents warned their kids about. Boys were told not to date her, girls were told not to befriend her. She was the type of girl who was more focused on drugs and partying and having a good time rather than her reputation. Everyone told her that her actions would eventually bite her in the ass, but at least she wouldn't have any regrets. At least she wouldn't look back at her teenage years and consider it her wasted youth.
Her fingers, once toying around with her cigarette, soon dropped it. The heel of her boot pressed into the spark, the fire dying out on the ground. Slowly, she snaked her arms around his neck, and leaned in close. Her boyfriend, James, tipped his head forward, and allowed his forehead to press against hers. A content hum escaped her, and she watched a smile blossomed on his face.
She had a feeling that James's parents loathed her in every sense. Their perfect son, on his way to being valedictorian, having his light extinguished by the plague of her own making. James was the first person to think that they couldn't fix her, but the person who, in a sense, was using her, and she knew as much. He was looking for adventure and for something exciting, and she was the only one who could give it to him. Despite knowing this, she still let herself fall, even though she still remained misunderstood. Although, he made her happy. James made her smile and James made her feel special, and she wasn't quite ready to let that go yet.
She tilted her head up ever so slightly, allowing her lips to press against his. The music from the party taking place beyond in the building still shook the ground beneath her feet, and she knew that this was no where near a romantic scene, but she didn't care. Parties were the place to do these things at.
James immediately fell into her intoxicating spell, their lips working feverishly, as if this was their last time kissing. Her fingers knotted in his curled hair, and James's hands ran along the extent of her back. He pulled his lips away from hers, pressing them against the tender skin of her neck. She arched her neck back, exposing her skin and giving him more to work with. A moan of pleasure was soon to follow.
Skin was pressed against skin, hands running along flesh, lips tangled with another's, two hearts beating as one. The two were always tangled with one another, barely able to keep their hands off each other. They were two unlikely people who made a pair that was destined to create catastrophes. They were fire and ice and every extreme. They were a storm: they were hurricanes and they were tornados and they were tsunamis.
They were always lost in one another, and she was unsure of how much time had passed. All she knew was that whenever she was with James, it was as if time stood still. That she wasn't apart of the moving world, and everything went on pause.
She was breathing hard - nothing too crazy, but she felt a little breathless. Her eyes met his, and both of them wore bright smiles. They were alone on this patio outside of a raging party, and it felt as if there was no one else around them.
James tucked a strand of hair that fell out of her bun behind her ear, informing, "I'm gonna go get some drinks, okay?"
"Okay," she breathed, nodding her head lightly.
He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head before making his way toward the sliding door. She watched as he slipped into the building filled with their peers, James's figure soon getting lost in the mass of people.
No longer in the comfort of his arms, she could feel the chill of the evening air. Her arms wrapped around her waist, conserving heat. Despite her long sleeved shirt, the cool air still reached her skin. She turned her back on the house, gazing out at the yard of whoever's party it was. Half the time, she didn't know whose party she was at. She'd hear about it from a friend of a friend who's friends with the host. She had a habit of party crashing, not that anyone cared. Everyone was too shit faced to realize she didn't go to their school, and either way, most people from out of town knew who she was anyway.
The sliding door slid open, and she glanced over her shoulder to face James. She paused in her turn, confusion sweeping across her face when she realized that it wasn't James. Instead, she was met with the sight of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in all of her years. She must have been nineteen or twenty at the most, and she wore a heart shaped face. She had long, silky, jet black hair that hung down to her waist.
She wore a sheepish smile, shutting the door behind her. "Sorry," she apologized, shooting her a sheepish glance. "It was just getting so hot in there and I need a breath of fresh air. You mind?"
She shook her head, gesturing to the empty patio. "No worries."
The girl made her way toward her, and she glanced at her knowingly. "You're Freya Cho, right?"
Freya glanced over and raised a brow. "Yeah. Guess I'm really becoming a house house name, huh?" Freya was used to being talked about. She was known for sex and partying, boys and girls from all over knowing her name. She was the reason many relationships had broken up, and she was at nearly every party in her area.
"There's rumors," the girl mused, shrugging. "But it's always strong girls who get those reps." She turned to face Freya, sticking out her hand in greeting. For a brief moment, Freya eyed the girl's hand warily, soon clasping her hand with hers. "I'm Eris."
Freya grinned, teasing, "Like the goddess?"
A sly smirk slowly crept upon Eris's lips. "Exactly like the goddess."
Freya's voice broke, her fingers digging into James's shirt as she desperately tried to hold onto his life.
"No," she sputtered, trying to get her words out through the sobs trying to break through. "No, n - no, n - n - no, James." Her trembling fingers ran along the sweating, pale skin of his forehead; a heavy, aching pain settling deep in her chest. "St - Stay with me. You're going to be okay, okay? I - I pr - promise, James."
Weak and frail, James raised a shaking hand toward her. The pad of his thumb rested underneath her chin, stroking her skin gently. "Frey - Freya," he murmured, Freya watched as his eyes glazed over.
Unable to control herself, a sob wracked throughout her body. Her chest collapsed from inside of her, her heart splitting into two and she desperately held him against her. Freya allowed herself to break, surrounded by absolute death. The carnage of everyone she loved, their corpses being the only things that remained.
She couldn't handle it - couldn't process it. She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.
A hand curled around her shoulder. A set of fingers so slender, curling tightly around Freya's shoulder. A icy chill tickled along her spine, sending chills throughout Freya's body. It was also as if she was receiving the touch of death, but in that instant, Freya realized everything. Everything hit her with absolute clarity, and Freya knew instantly that it was Eris's touch.
"I know what you want, Freya," she had said Freya out on the patio. "You want to be powerful, and I, I want to give you that power."
Freya's desire for power lead her here. It was Eris who brought Freya to her knees, breaking in a way that she never thought was possible. Freya understood why Eris held that power over her, Eris wasn't just a girl. No, Eris was a true Greek goddess. Eris wielded chaos, strife, and discord like blades.
And Eris would give Freya unfathomable power.
Freya glanced at the goddess knelt down beside her, her glassy eyes focused on Eris. "What do I do?" Freya weakly breathed out, looking to Eris for guidance.
Eris merely revealed her other hand, and in it sat a blade. A long, slender knife. A blade that gleamed even in the darkness that shrouded them.
Eris reached out toward Freya, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You know what you have to do."
Freya shook her head slowly, wanting to protest. Despite the deep feeling in her gut, Freya wanted to refuse to do it. She knew that there was no hope left for James, but Freya couldn't bring herself to be the one to do it. Without realizing it, Freya found that she was slowly wrapping her fingers around the hilt of the knife.
James's eyes were closed by this point, slowly succumbing to the violent hands of death. It was up to Freya to put him out of his misery.
When Freya needed it most, Eris's touch vanished, the goddess leaving Freya to her last test. Freya cradled James's head in the palm of her free hand, eyes trained on the exposed skin of his neck. Slow and quick, she would make it slow and quick. Clean and precise.
She swallowed down her fear; she swallowed her final sob.
She brought the blade to his flesh and dug in.
☐☐☐☐☐
There was nothing he loved more than perfection, and maybe that was because he was the human embodiment of perfection.
He was always aware of the stares he received, always aware of the girls and the boys who all wanted to date him, aware of the mark he made wherever he went. His marks came in the form of fiery kisses, leaving scars on his victims' lips and necks. He used the weapons at his disposal, wielding them all perfectly. His charming smile, his forest green eyes, his wickedly beautiful face. He was the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on, and he knew just what kind of effect he had on people.
The thing was though, was that he loved it. He loved knowing that he could have a girl at this side with a quirk of the lips, or a boy desperately vying for his affection. It was who he was, and it's always been that way. That was solely for the fact that his features were beautiful, sculpted to perfection. He knew that his personality was bitter, that he was vain and arrogant and ignorant. His world revolved around him, he couldn't give a damn about anything else.
Despite sitting in what he considered the equivalent of hell, he was still pleased. The world around him was cloaked in darkness, barely able to see an inch in front of him. If it weren't for the gleaming mirror that seemed to pulsate with light, he wouldn't have been able to handle the darkness around him.
But there was a mirror, a mirror that showed him his face. High cheekbones, forest green eyes, sharp jawline, and golden hair that sat atop of his head in curly tufts. Beauty like his was rare. Perfection at its absolute finest, and it was no wonder why he was so self absorbed. How could one not be? Especially when they looked like that?
So, there he sat in that hellish space created for him and him only.
His ass sat planted on the floor beneath him, his ankles crossed and his forearms resting atop of his knees as he stared into the mirror. It was almost as if this very mirror complimented his features better than a normal one. Like this was a magical object of sorts, a power humming underneath the glass.
It called out to him, in a slow drawl, tasting his name on its no existent lips.
"Felix," it nearly hissed, the voice cold and venomous, yet alluring all at the same time. Felix didn't know why he was drawn to it. Maybe it was the fact that he himself matched a cold and venomous profile. "Felix, Felix, Felix."
He wondered how something so menacing could sound so melodic.
It was almost as if it was beginning him to just reach out and touch the glass, to allow himself to become one with the sleek surface before him. For a moment, he wondered if the glass was able to see him the way eyes saw. He wondered if that this particular mirror was able to process the expressions on his face, to read the emotions he conveyed.
He knew it was an irrational thought, but the way the mirror seemed to caress his name, it made him believe that it understood something a little deeper about him.
Or maybe he was just starting to lose his sanity after being in sheer darkness for so long.
In fact, he didn't particularly know how long he was there for or how he got there. Oddly enough, he didn't seem to care. There was no sense of panic, no urge to scream until his lungs burst. He felt oddly at peace with this knowledge, and he found it rather peculiar.
So, he decided to indulge. He decided to give in to the mirror's commands, despite there being no actual command. He allowed himself to lean forward, to extend his arm, to allow his fingers to hover over the glass for a brief second.
The mirror seemed to hiss in annoyance, and finally, he gave in.
The tips of his fingers brushed against the glass, running along it slowly. His body seemed to hum with life, glowing the same way the mirror had. As if something had turned on him, and warmth spread throughout his body.
And then, everything shattered.
Felix was, in a sense, in paradise.
Or maybe that was just his penis talking. Considering that a girl was straddling him, and his hands were running up and down the length of her back; a boy behind him, his chest pressed into Felix's back as he allowed his lips to suck the tender flesh of his neck. Felix's lips desired to reach the ones pressed against his neck, but right now, he was currently working with the beautiful girl atop of him.
His lips melted against hers, melding together as if they were two pieces of the same machine. His hands slid under her shirt, his fingers running along the bare skin of her back. Felix grinned into the kiss when he felt her shudder against him. He thrusted his hips up slightly, allowing his body to meld against hers.
Her fingers were knotted in the messy curls of his hair, and he felt himself reclining his head back. Felix's neck put itself on display, revealing the most vulnerable of skin. From behind him, the boy left his work on his neck. His pasty skin began to slowly blotch with deep reds and blues and purples. Felix shivered when the boy's teeth grazed against his skin, nipping ever so lightly.
It was a habit of Felix's; he constantly went to clubs in hopes to hook up. He never knew their names, and quite honestly, didn't care. He was there to enjoy himself. The night always started out the same: a pill of ecstasy and knocking back two shots of vodka. He wanted to feel light, he wanted to feel pleasure, and he didn't want to feel anything else. Felix wanted to forget reality, wanted to forget his life outside of the neon lights and the sweaty bodies and the booze.
So, he allowed himself this indulgence. He lets himself feel bare skin against bare skin, feel nails along his back, feel teeth along his jaw, feel tender hands around his neck.
One of the boy's hands wound around Felix, his hand resting against the center of his thigh. His hands tightened around Felix's limb, his lips soon reaching the bones of his neck. Felix shuddered, and the girl before him as she pulled her lips away from his, allowing them to run along the line of his jaw.
Felix lost himself despite all of the people around them. It didn't matter that a few feet away, there was another couple making out, and that in the center of the room, bodies were pressed against other bodies. That music played so loudly that the ground shook beneath them.
He was exposed on all levels, and he didn't care. It made him feel alive for once in his life.
The boy's hand slowly moved its way up along Felix's leg, and anticipation took hold of him. His bones ached for it, and he wanted nothing more than to feel such an intimate touch.
It was so close, until suddenly the boy from behind him was torn away from Felix forcefully. A cry of protest escaped the boy when a hand grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt, tearing him off of Felix. Felix started, the girl atop of him's head snapping up. Her eyes narrow into slits, venom dripping from her eyes.
Felix couldn't say he didn't feel the same emotions. He was around ten seconds away from slamming his knuckles into the teeth of whoever decided it was their decision to interrupt this.
The golden haired boy craned his neck, his lips turned down in a grimace.
Felix's expression noticeably changed once he laid his eyes on whoever it was. He didn't even notice the boy wracked with fury standing beside who it was. In front of him was the most beautiful individual Felix had ever laid eyes on.
It took a lot out of Felix to even admit that to himself. Felix was used to be the most attractive in the room, the one who could get a girl to drop her panties with only a wink. This person couldn't have even been human to be as radiant as he was. It was a god like beauty, something only the immortal could hold. Only someone so extraordinary could hold such an impact with a single glance.
He had darkened black hair, darker than midnight, and blue eyes that were like sapphires. They weren't light and bright like the sky, but they were dark and cool and calculating. They were daunting and they held a fire behind them that Felix couldn't place. He was tall, and wore a finely tailored suit which made him look more elegant than he already was. His cheekbones were high, and his face finely sculpted. As if the gods themselves looked upon him and created him from porcelain.
The young man lazily gazed at the girl in Felix's lap, and motioned for her to get up. "Move."
Her lips parted, flustered and prepared to retort. That is, until Felix cut in.
"You heard him," Felix said, and her face instantly flushed a deep crimson. He couldn't tell whether it was out of embarrassment or fury. "Get going, princess."
She pried herself off of his lap, shooting him a fleeting glance. It was evident she was hoping he'd call her back, but his focus was now off of her entirely. His emerald eyes remained on the young man before him, and everything in his body was telling him to forget small talk and just bring his lips to his.
Felix was one horny son of a bitch, but what else was anyone at a club for?
Gazing up, Felix drawled, "Can I help you?"
The boy said nothing, simply reaching into his pocket and retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He tugged a stick out, scraping the butt of it across the top. It caught flame, and he brought it to his lips. He sucked in, soon releasing a slow, long drag. The smoke escaped his lips, pluming into the air.
Felix watched, mesmerized, the way his lips curled around the end of the cigarette. The way his adam's apple bobbed in his throat. There was a newfound sense of desire arising in Felix's chest.
When he pulled the cigarette away, lazily holding it in between two fingers, he said, "There is, actually."
Felix shot him his killer, signature grin. "What can I do for you?"
"I see what I want," he began, slowly making his way toward Felix, who was seated on a leather bench. He was pressing into the boy, his leg pushing itself in between Felix's. He slowly leaned forward, his nose only a mere inch away from brushing against Felix's. For the first time in Felix's life, he didn't feel in control. For the first time, he was the one desperate for someone's lips. Felix couldn't quite tell if he liked this feeling or not. He released a slow breath, and Felix could feel the hot air dance across his lips. He smelled like liquor and nicotine. "And I take it."
His free hand pressed itself against the nape of Felix's neck, and he pulled him close.
The instant their lips touched, Felix felt like a young god.
His face shattered.
Into a hundred, thousand, million pieces. The scattered remains of something so beautiful. A hum that once felt calm and serene turning into something to sinister and ugly that it tore at Felix's flesh, tearing his skin away from his bones.
Felix watched as it began to tear at his forehead, and his free hand shot up. His fingers desperately tried to push the skin back, to keep the flesh connected to his body. He wanted as the blood began to pour out of the wound profusely, as with any head wound. The fiery crimson dripped down his cheeks like tears, staining his skin as he began to become an image of something he didn't recognize.
The skin on his cheeks began to flake, falling away as if it were snow. A sob clawed in the back of Felix's throat, and he let it escape. A choked sob of a scream as he tried to fathom what was happening. He watched as his features began to become something monstrous and deadly.
Something ugly and gruesome and grotesque. He was a monster that should be put down.
Blood poured, skin tore, and bone arose. He could see the muscle under his cheeks begin to strip away, and he found that he was indeed crying. His salty tears became mixed with the steady stream of blood and the disappearance of his skin.
He found himself staring at something that was no longer human, but the battered, mangled remains of someone who once was. He desperately reached for layers of skin, trying to piece his face back together, but it was still being torn away as if being shoved through a meat grinder.
His flesh, grated away slowly and with an agonizing pain.
His throat tore as he screamed, his screams so loud that it would shake even the darkest of humans to the very core. He felt the invisible blades tear away at him, creating a monster out of something that was once beautiful.
Creating something to be ashamed of.
But more importantly, something that should be feared.
☐☐☐☐☐
not edited.
hey, guys! i totally did not get inspiration to write this because heathens was leaked (i've listened to this song on loop while i wrote this whoops). anyway, i really hope you liked this as much as the last chapter! it's a little shorter, but still good (i hope). be sure to let me know what you thought if you liked it! (and get excited for nerissa and knox in the next chapter)!!