Rose Tainted Snow
December 14, 2010
Sometime in the Evening
I'd watched as the red flower petals of a bouquet of roses I held in my limp hand flow through the air as the unrelenting wind pushed against my rigid, unmoving frame. A foot of snow rested atop , what I knew as, the glossy slab of marble that I stood in front of, making it impossible to know what cold, dead, rotting body lay beneath the gravestone. Even with the thick blanket of snow covering the neatly engraved words, I knew whose grave this was that I stood before; I knew whose body was cringing with cold, or would have been if they were still alive.
I'd seen every expression the face of the person beneath me ever made; she taught me what love was and what it felt like to be loved. She was Lily Adams, one of the most elite actresses of her time and I had killed her.
People told me all the time(well, members of the household I lived with did) that it wasn't my fault, that I wasn't the cause of her death, but they had no idea what I went through even after one year of her death, that shows you how much her death impacted the world not just the acting industry. Almost every day I got harassed at school by mostly just her fan girls, which was almost every girl in the whole high school (rarely did I get harassed by boys, but it had happened once in a blue moon); I was pushed up against my locker, shoved down the stairs (Although that only happened twice), had my head shoved in a toilet filled with water (sometimes there were other liquids in there as well) etc. Any kind of bullying methods you could come up with it's probably already happened to me.
On top of a whole school day of never ending torture the paparazzi never ceased to “visit” me outside our school gate, always blubbering the same dull questions: How did it happen? What were you thinking? Why were you there? Do you realize the impact of such a famous star's death has on the worlds' of millions of teenagers and adults alike?.
Did I realize this? Of course I realized this! Never was there a day that I was allowed to forget it; I was never allowed to pretend that this tragic event never took place and that she was still alive today giving me her bright sunny smiles.
Back to the paparazzi. At first the teachers made minor attempts to make the pestering reporters go away, saying that they were “disturbing the peace of the whole school”, but, no matter what they tried, you could always count on there being at least two reporters being there, regardless of the petty reprimands they received from the teachers and sometimes even the principal. After that they gave up trying to run them off and let the journalists have at me.
I didn't mind much because they and I both knew that I would never tell them one bit of information. What else was there to tell them that they hadn't already guessed at? If I'd told them any other “juicy details” they would have kept on bothering me for the rest of my life, and I wasn't going to let that happen.
By then I'd been standing in the same spot for so long that my body had begun to go numb. I ignored the crawling coldness that had been attacking my fingers and toes for some time, and instead tilted my head back to look up at the gray sky.
Ice crystals had been falling for awhile now; they were just right: big enough to catch and hold in the palm of your hand before they melted into a small pool of water. I watched as they fell all around me and sometimes landing on my emotionless face. Today the sun was, sadly, invisible. Yes, invisible. I refused to believe that whenever it was cloudy out, like today, and I couldn't see the sun, that the sun was being covered by clouds. It was never a good enough excuse in my mind for the sun not to show up that day, so instead I told myself that the sun was merely invisible. That way I could still believe that the sun was still shining down on me that day; it was the only bright thing I had to look up to in my life, literally.
A snowflake fluttered into my eye, making it melt beneath my plastic eye contact. I shook my head, my mental capability at the moment told me that if I did so it would remove the blurriness from my eyesight, but, of course, that did nothing to help my problem. I sighed and returned to gaze at the tombstone.
As I did so I noticed that the petals that had once been attached to their stems were now scattered across the snow covered cemetery, making it look like there were blotches of blood stained onto the surface of the fluffy white substance.
I guess even nature mourns for the deceased, well-loved actress. Are you trying to make me feel worse then I already do? I silently asked the trees that surrounded me.
My “family” would shortly appear there along with the reporters and every other well-known person in the world. Even though it was only the anniversary of Lily's death it would be exactly the same as her funeral: paparazzi everywhere. Oh, wait, of course they would be there! Just this morning practically the whole household had called every newspaper, TV station, and every other reporting agency to tell them what time the family and other close friends would be arriving at her burial site. All they cared about was the glory and fame her death would bring.
Am I the only one who actually loved her for who she was and not for what she became? Wasn't there anyone else who was truly close to her that shared the same feelings as me? Even her boyfriend, the only other one who might have had the same feelings, only cared about the social status she gave him.
I was also supposed to be one of the family members that would attend the huge spectacle, but I refused to be part of the group that professed their sorrow for the actress, but didn't really feel it down to the core. They weren't human beings, they were monsters who didn't know what true pain felt like, who thought that the world was all roses and rainbows. I would not be grouped up with any of them even if my life depended on it.
But, wait, aren't I the same as them? Do I have the right to be calling them monsters when I was the one who killed her? Aren't I the true monster? I don't even have the right to be here, standing before her grave telling her that I'm sorry for what happened. She must be laughing at me right now, saying down to me, “What you? Sorry? You ruined everything for me! I'm dead while you're still alive, and yet you want me to believe that you actually feel sorry for what you did? Are you kidding me? I laugh at people like you.” Yes, this must be what she's thinking right now. How pitiful am I?
The ugly brown stems that were once covered by luscious rose petals had slipped from my fingers then and landed on top of the flat tombstone. I'd decided that it was time I returned to the manor house, although it didn't really matter if I did or didn't return home no one there took notice of me or cared what I was up to, so I turned back around and started to trudge back the way I'd come.
Right now, reader, you must be thinking that I'm a very unfeeling person for not producing one tear to shed during my stay at her grave, but you are quite mistaken. For the first six months after her death there wasn't a day where you couldn't see the remnants of a tear glistening on my pale cheek; in fact it was rather pathetic to witness. Even if I had wished to create one little droplet of water from my eye it simply wouldn't have come; I'd already cried so many tears that there were none left to spare for that occasion.
I may not have been showing my emotions on the outside at the time because I'd been using them all up for what had been going on in my head at the time (sometimes even now as I write this those pictures pop up in my mind). Every scene of that horrific night had been replaying over and over in my mind throughout the whole day, and right about that time it'd been ready to start all over again. Before I go into detail of what happened earlier I will give you a little background on how I first met Lily Adams.
The first thirteen years of my life were filled with the dull gray colors and lifestyle of an all girl's orphanage. I had the same routine every day with same boring people(there were always exceptions to this such as a visitor every now and then and the rarity of taking in another orphaned girl). Life just continually seemed drab and dreary; nothing exciting happened during those years and I was dissatisfied with my position in life. I was tired of the small world I'd been living in, I wanted to learn and see more of the world around me. I thirsted for new experiences and new faces; I wanted to gulp it all up and take it all in.
One night, as I was restlessly lying in my bed thinking about my life and what I wanted to do with it, I decided that I was finally tired of it all: I was going to run away and that's just what I did that night. Security at night there was scant, so it was easy sneaking out at night and then quickly sneak back in before dawn the next day.(I'd previously done this once or twice with a couple of the other girls my age, but those two stories are ones for another time) I knew that tonight I would not be returning in the morn.
Because of the naivete of a thirteen-year-old girl I had not thought further in my plans than walking out the orphanage’s front two doors; to me, that in itself would be an accomplishment. I had little money, which meant I would have to live on the streets, and I had no way of protecting myself from prowlers. The best hope I had was believing that luck was on my side that night.
For the first hour or so luck was indeed on my side, but after that everything just went downhill from there. For awhile I'd been able to smell the dampness you always smell before a good rain, and, finally, the clouds had managed to break loose from their barriers and rain flew down in torrents. The light T-shirt and shorts I was wearing at the time were quickly soaked through, and soon after that, as I was walking down another alley, I could faintly hear the sound of drunken deep male voices up ahead of me. Crippling fear spread through me; there was nothing I could do. I was paralyzed where I stood by my own fear.
Finally, as they came into view (I forgot to tell you that that night the streets were clouded with fog) my senses kicked back in. I ran for dear life as stories of what drunken men did to girls flew through my brain.
I didn't know where I was running, but I did know that I wouldn't stop if I didn't have to. I passed through so many alleys that I'd lost track of where I was until I slammed into a thin body that had gotten in my way. I stumbled back and warily lifted my head to see what I'd run into.
My breath was taken away; right before me stood one of the prettiest creatures I'd seen in my life. Deep blue eyes shrouded by thick lashes stared down at me in bewilderment. Her piquant rose colored lips were opened from the shock of being hit so hard by a large object. Bleach blond tresses had escaped the safety of the white hood that had been protecting them from the cold rain. The city lights of the main street in town encased her in a glowing essence.
After taking in this angel's features I was able to quickly mumble a sheepish apology.
“Well, I should hope so. Next time pay more attention to your surroundings, will you?” she said, scorn outlining her words, and then continued to go on her way, leaving me to continue standing in the dark alley.
My eyes trailed after her; they were still glued to the slender silhouette. What happened next will never cease to surprise me whenever I'll mull over this night again and again. Suddenly, after she'd taken a few paces away from me, she stood stock still in the, now, drizzling rain. I cocked my head to the side, puzzled at what she intended to do.
As quick as the snap of two fingers she'd turned around and thrust her way through the throng of people going the opposite direction back toward me. Before I knew it the angel was standing right in front of me again.
“Don't you have a place to stay?” her soft voice asked me.
I'd shaken my head. I guess, now that I think about it, that was more of a lie because I could have always returned to the orphanage.
She heaved a sigh and then uttered one simple word that would change my life forever, “Come.”
Sometime around Midnight...
You must excuse my absence I was “wanted” in the parlor by my “father”, but I'll get to that later, hopefully, tonight. I will start from where I left off.
After that night my life took a drastic turn; everything seemed to happen in a blur after we'd reached her “swanky” penthouse. I became deathly ill after staying in the cold rain for so long without suitable attire covering my slim limbs, and because of that Lily had to take care of me night and day. She wasn't as popular when I met her, so she had time to dote on me; if she hadn't been there for me I probably wouldn't be alive today writing this down. I was, and still am, forever indebted to her.
Yeah, and now look what you've done; you've killed her! Is that your way of repaying her? Hmm?
Once I recovered from my illness I continued living at her house, which I was also eternally grateful for. As we began to live together I got to learn much more about her and she about me. I learned that we were both about the same age and that she'd been in the entertainment industry ever since she was just a little toddler; there were so many exciting stories she had to tell me about her experiences unlike what I had to tell her about mine.
We were almost never separated from each other(the only exception to this was when she had auditions, but even then I would wait impatiently outside for her). The first year and a half was complete bliss for me; she was like the older sister I never had. She was family to me, and we were inseparable, or so I thought.
One day as I was cooking dinner in our kitchen, waiting for her to return from a recent audition(I wasn't able to attend this one with her because I had a terrible cold that wouldn't allow me to venture outdoors). Before I knew it she was bursting through the front door, practically leaping with joy.
“Rose, you'll never believe what happened today,” I remember her saying in a sing- song voice while she danced over to me, as she clutched a thin white sheet of paper between her two hands.
“You got a part in the drama?” I'd asked her. I can still remember my eyes lighting up with the same sparkle that had floated in her blue irises that night, but that will be nevermore.
You can guess the obvious answer she had to that: yes. I won't go into detail about what the next six months of that year were like for me, but I will tell you that I gradually became one of her last priorities.
The drama didn't last very long, but because of her beauty and her wonderful talent hundreds of offers came her way after that short series. Sure I was happy for her and that she was so successful, but that didn't mean I was quite ready to give her up just then. I knew that if she got carried away by all of the other job offers she'd received she would soon forget about me.
Now that I take time to mull things over I realize that she never wanted to neglect me or make me feel like I was being forgotten; all she wanted to do was to pursue her dream of being an actress and all I did was tear her down. Because of me she'll never be able to do that ever again; because of me she is now dead and alone, rotting in the dirt where she doesn't belong. She belongs on a stage with millions of people surrounding her, telling her what a wonderful actress she is; never was she one to sit all alone in the corner like she is now.
Well, the six months had now passed and it was the beginning of a new year; that year was the worst year of my life. For over half the year I locked myself up in my room continually(sometimes for so long that I didn't go outside or eat for a whole week). I refused to go to school where I would be surrounded by all of her fans who would always poke at me for information about her(somehow word had spread that I was quite close with her, but they didn't actually know that I lived with her).
All I was thinking about during that time was about myself and the pain she was causing me, but what I didn't care about was the pain I was causing her. I knew what I was doing to her, I knew that she was slowly breaking on the inside just like I was; everyday I saw her face on the news as they talked about how one day she would do an excellent job and then the next do a terrible job.
All I wanted to do was make her suffer more than I was suffering; I wanted her to feel just like I did. I was just that immature, and now I deeply regret it, so much you wouldn't be able to imagine it.
By that point I was so consumed in my own hate and misery for Lily(yes, I hated her because I always seemed to think that she didn't realize the pain she was putting me through) that I didn't take notice of what was going on around me too much nor did I take notice of what I myself was doing to my body. Sometimes I'd look down at my arm and see a small cut on my wrist and other times it would be a very deep cut that was gushing blood. How these marks appeared I could never figure out back then, but today I know that it was my own doing that I did unconsciously.
One thing, and probably the only true thing, that stands out in my mind is the month of November. At the very beginning of the month of November I joined a gang.
Now this wasn't just any gang, oh no, it had to be one of the most dangerous gangs in New York City, called the Shadow Daughters: a gang made up of only women. What was their specialty? Finding the cruelest methods of torturing their opponents and their new “toys”. Who was their new “toy”? Me.
I believe I'll stop here for the night. Tomorrow morning I will tell you the rest of my tale. Sweet dreams.
December 15,2010
Before Dawn
I was beaten, whipped, shot, cut to pieces, and had all of their new torture items tested on me; that happened for about the the first month that I first joined the gang. Honestly, I don't know how I was able to survive November of 2009. I suppose it was the thought that it was better to feel something rather than nothing at all; it didn't matter to me if it was killing me. I just needed to feel something.
Most nights I came home bleeding and bruised with eyes swollen shut and a limping leg, but it didn't matter because Lily was almost never home to see me like this; she got to see the scars and leftover wounds after. Even today my torso and arms are ravaged with ugly jagged white scars reminding me of what I'd gone through and done to myself.
Well, November went by and my normal routine fell into place: go to school and get beaten up and picked on there, go home for a few minutes to do half of my homework, go to the Shadow Daughter's headquarters and get beaten up there again, and then finally return home to get maybe two hours' sleep. Everything for me at the time was going good, that is, until that night.
Now that you know a bit about my history with Lily Adams up til that night I will tell you about the list of events that had been playing in my mind as I'd walked through the snow back “home” from her burial site.
It began as a gloomy cold day as I was walking away from the School of Torture, aka St. Jeeves High, and rain began to patter against the sidewalk I was walking on. Yes, it was raining, although it wasn't like the nice soft rain in the spring. This rain was ice cold, mixed with sleet, and hurt whenever it touched my bare arms.
It's true, I wasn't wearing a coat or ever a sweater; I was wearing a black shirt with ripped off sleeves and dark gray jeans with holes on the knees. Why bother wearing the school uniform when nobody cared what I did? I was the outcast of outcasts; no one bothered with me, teachers didn't talk to me about my horrible grades, and girls(let alone guys) didn't invite me to sit with them at lunch.
My lip and nose were pierced, also against school policy, my nails were usually painted black and chipped, and my shoulder length black hair was always spiked. No one looked me in the eyes except when they intended to beat me up, and ,even with some fighting experience, they almost always fulfilled what they had set out to do.
I didn't even bother heading back to the apartment I shared with Lily, and instead went straight to the gang's hideout. It wasn't until I walked through our door later that night after I'd been beaten up by the gang's leaders that things started to go very wrong.
I weakly flipped on the light to the right of the door as I walked through the threshold and saw the back of Lily's head sitting in an easy chair facing the TV as flashes of colors burst from the screen. My feet were frozen in place as I continued to stare at the blond head facing the TV. She wasn't supposed to be home at this time, or even home at all.
What was she going to say when she saw my appearance? More importantly, what was she going to do? I didn't want to show her this part of me; the broken, beaten up side that she never saw because it was all her fault anyway(somehow my brain had formed the idea that my visitations to the Shadow Daughters was her fault).
Well, I'd had no other choice I would either have to face her with how I looked or sneakily make my way to my bedroom. I chose the second option. I softly closed the door, making sure that she didn't make any sudden movements. I'd just managed to reach my bedroom door when she took that time to speak to me.
“Where are you going? I came home tonight to watch a movie with you since we haven't spent much time together lately. I thought you'd like that since, I guess, it seems I'm neglecting you. I am sorry about that. I never wanted it to happen this way, you know?” she whispered to me over the buzz of the television, her head still facing the TV screen.
Those few words cracked the hard shell surrounding my heart and my hand slipped from my doorknob as I stared at her in bewilderment. She realized that she'd been neglecting me and the best part was was that she was sorry for it. That was all I needed to hear to set everything back into place. But, that was before I remembered how I looked and all the pain I'd gone through. Remembering that just put a step back further and I became angry all over again, the cracks of my heart's shell filling up again.
“Come here. Sit with me,” she said, patting the seat next to her on the couch.
I didn't move. There was no way I was going to sit next to her, but then a little voice came inside my head, reminding me of all the things she had just said. I was now in a stand still, debating whether I should forgive her or not.
While this was going on, Lily had gotten up from her position on the loveseat ,after I hadn't come over to sit with her, and that was when she saw me. She saw my beaten and bruised body halfway turned to the couch a few feet away from my room and her big blue eyes became round as her lips parted in an “O” shape.
The argument in my head stopped when I realized that she was looking at me and my brown eyes locked with hers. At first there was shock in those blue irises, but then it turned to sorrow and pity for me. She began to slowly walk over toward where I was standing.
“Rose,” she barely whispered, on the verge of crying, “what's happened?”
I didn't answer and looked away from her pitying stare. I didn't want her to pity me after all it was her fault that this had happened.
“Rosie, what's happened to you?” she asked. Now she was standing right in front of me ,while I continued to look away from her face, and she reached out her hand to my face where a cut was seeping with blood. I cringed away from her pale fingers, not wanting them to be stained with my blood, and took a step back towards the kitchen.
“Rosie, is this my fault?” anguish fringed her words and I couldn't take it any longer. I turned on my heel and ran through the kitchen, barging through my door out of the suffocating room. Even though I always told myself that I hated her with all my heart, the truth was that I cared and loved her as much as any friend could. I wasn't running just because I wasn't able to stand seeing her with such sadness in her eyes, but also because I hated myself for letting me believe that it was her fault for why I was always beaten up when it was really all my own doing.
Now there was only one place for me to go and I knew that what I found there I wasn't going to like, except it was worse than what I had expected. Finally, my feet stopped me in front of the door to the huge old abandoned storage building where the Shadow Daughters were located at and I leaned my hand up against it as I tried to catch my breath. Once this was accomplished I entered the building to find utter chaos.
Women were running around everywhere: packing up weapons, ordering other girls around, or communicating to another person on a radio.
“There you are! We've been looking all over for you! It's time you fessed up what you've done,” an overly angry women said who I knew as Madge before two people grabbed both of my arms and started dragging me to the one place I didn't want to see: the boss's personal room.
“Here she is, Boss,” Madge said as the two holding my arms threw me down in front of the Boss, who was sitting on an office chair with her feet propped up on the desk in front of her, “She's the one who ratted us out to the police.”
I can remember wondering what they were talking about. What did she mean? I knew nothing about this. There was no way that I was the one who had ratted them out. If anything it would have been Madge because she was sick of being under the Boss's order, but she had no other choice since she was indebted to her.
“I knew it had to be her,” the Boss sneered at me as she stood up, her torn trench coat trailing the floor as she tightened her grasp on the whip around her hand, “She was probably sent in here by the police to investigate and now she's decided that it's time to come get us. Well, I don't think so! No one pulls a fast one on me!”
“Wait what are you ta-” I tried asking, but that was a big mistake; all it earned me was a slash from her whip on my face, which was still bruised up from earlier that night.
“Silence! You were not granted the right to speak! Before we leave this hideout for another I will teach you a lesson you will never forget,” she snarled at be, evil shining in her black eyes.
Only a few minutes had lapsed by before someone came in to report a person yelling at the top of their lungs to let me out of here.
“You know, Boss,” the person continued, “She kinda looks like that Lily Adams actress, whatshername.”
My eyes widened in complete fear and horror, it could only be Lily. How could she have followed me all the way here? I didn't know the answer to that question, but I did know there was no way I was going to let them hurt Lily.
“Is that so?” the Boss asked, ripping the needle out of my leg and I whimpered in pain from where I hung from the ceiling(ropes that hung from the ceiling were tied around my wrists and ankles so that I was staring down at the floor), “And she's asking for this bitch, huh? Well, if she wants her, she can have her.” A cruel smiled crept across her lips as she looked up at me. This could only mean one thing.
Oh, God, they're going to kill me and make her watch it, I thought writhing as much as I could as they took me down from my current position. I would do all I could to make it as difficult as possible to pull this stunt, but my strength was dying and so was I.
“Stop moving,” Madge said in anger and punched me in the head as she got me down; it served it's purpose, I no longer moved.
They dragged me out of the room and shoved me out of the storage house's door, quickly shutting it behind me and leaving only a sliver of a crack open for later, right onto Lily, making us both fall back a step.
“Ohmygod! Rose what has happened to you?” Lily had asked in utter horror as her eyes filled with tears.
“Lily. . . you. . . have to run,” I'd whispered to her, blood spitting out of my mouth onto her shoulder as I leaned on her.
“I'm not leaving you here! Come on, we'll get you out of here! We'll run together,” she said in desperation, false hope shone in her eyes.
I'd shaken my head as I'd said, “No, Lily they'll just come after us both then. Go. . .Lily. . .G-”
Click. Bang. Crack. I'd screamed in agonizing pain as I'd fallen to the ground, clutching my left knee. They did just what I'd thought they would: they were going to shoot both my knee caps out. The worst torture ever. Laughter came from the cracked open door as all of the women within the building had laughed at my twisting body.
Lily had dropped to her knees beside me, holding both her arms over me, as if she'd wanted to hold me, but didn't know if she should.
“Run. Now,” I'd said through clenched teeth. I hadn't known how much longer I was going to be able to stay conscious and I'd need to make sure that Lily was safe before my body had decided to shut down.
She'd shaken her head as a faint smile had occupied her cherry lips, “I can't do that.”
The next seconds seemed to have played in slow motion as I'd watched what happened. The next thing I'd known Lily was up on her feet running towards the doors, yelling at them to set me free and to stop torturing me. It didn't take long for her body to be riddled with bullets, and less than half as long for her dead body to slump to the pavement.
I still swear to this day that within those few seconds my heart had stopped beating as I watched her being continually shot at and then fall backwards from the impact of every bullet.
“LILY!!! Lily! Lily,” I'd screamed her name until I could no longer scream from the gush of blood coming from my mouth. Still holding my knee, I'd started to crawl over to her dead form, tears heavily falling from my swollen eyes, but before I could reach her it went black.
The next thing I remember after that was waking up in a hospital bed.When I awoke the room I'd been place in was completely empty with only one light that shone above the bed I was lying in. There was a window to my right with the moon shining down on me, telling me that it was long past nightfall.
A stetoscope was placed to my left, beeping consistently the rate of my heart. The TV in the corner of the room flashing familiar images in the dark with the quiet buzz of a reporter talking about the twelve o'clock news:
“Further details on the 'Lily Adam's case' just in: Lily Adams, famous actress of the day, has been killed, and we have more details for you on this tragic incident right now,” said the female reporter in a fake sorrowful voice.
“Apparently the actress was found at this old abandoned warehouse earlier this evening,” a picture of the warehouse flew by on the screen as she continued on, “The aledged hideout of the Shadow Daughters, a terrifying gang of the streets of New York City, who's members are currently being held in custody.”
“The actress's body was shot five times: one in the chest, two in the legs, one in the arm, and one in the head. Her body was found with this girl,” my school picture of two years ago flashed onto the screen, “known as Rose Hompkins, a former member of the gang who had tried to save Lily. She is now being taken care of in a nearby hospital in Critical Care.”
She then went on to talk about our whole life history between each other, but I couldn't stand it any longer. I groped for the TV controller that was on a metal tray next to the stetoscope, but it was too far away. In the process of getting the controller, the IV in my right arm was ripped out, the stetoscope transmitter on my finger came off, and I fell halfway out of my bed.
Nurses came rushing into the room and all of the lights were quickly turned on, blinding me as I still tried to get to the controller. Before I reached my goal, though, I was placed upright on the uncomfortable hospital bed with the IV successfully placed in my arm and the stetoscope transmitter back on my index finger. Frustration leaked out of my pores at going to all of that trouble for nothing.
They then bombarded me with questions: How are you feeling? Would you like something to eat or drink? What time did you wake up? Is there anything else we can get for you?
“No,” I seethed through clenched teeth, “I just want to be left the hell ALONE!”
This took them aback and they stood there silently looking at me with their sickening pity and fake sympathy. They nodded their heads like they were synchronized together and patted my back simultaneously. All I wanted to do at that moment was strangle the both of them, but I had done enough killing for one night. Or was it still the same night?
After that night I was transferred to every department there was in the hospital I was at, or so it seemed to me. There was not one moment of peace, what with all the reporters and journalists pressing their noses up to the window of the room I was staying in. Not one day did I go without being blinded by the flash of the light of a camera in my face; it was almost like I was a celebrity, but I'd had enough with that.
Finally, a full month later I was dispatched from the hospital right onto the doorstep of Lily's step-father's house, mansion is more like it. The maid who met me at the door told me the “master” was expecting me; she was dressed in all black. In fact the whole house was “dressed” in black, I mean literally the house! You'd think from seeing all of the black drapes and feeling the depressed aura that her step-father actually felt anguish for the death of his step-daughter's death, but one conversation with him proved otherwise.
I was lead into a quiet little sitting room complete with a blazing fireplace, plush chairs(in black, of course!), and a man smoking a cigar. His steel blue eyes pierced me, like those of a hawk, when I arrived in the room. Immediately, I knew I wasn't going to like this man.
“Sit,” he said in an all-too-pleasant tone, dismissing the maid. I sat on the edge of the chair opposite him, ready to take flight at any moment, my hands folded in my lap.
“You are to stay at this house from now on,” he informed me, exhaling some smoke into the air, “This was my daughter's wish, not mine. Of course, the only reason why I'm following through with it is because we have to keep a good face in front of the Press, you know. Because this is not what I wanted, I expect you to keep out of the way. You will only appear in front of the Press; I don't want you even in my sight. Some of the household members will be teaching you in the ways of our family along with the rules of the house. Is this all clear?”
He took the cigar from his mouth and looked at me through a stern and strict gaze. I knew there and then that this was a man to be feared. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and by knowing that I knew that he always got what he wanted.
I nodded my head. He then dismissed me and I was shown to my room, which was the attic of course, the fifth and final story of the house.
To be Continued. . .