Ƒօяɢօʈʈɛɳ. ※〜※〜※ I wrote this first update on the computer, so it'll seem like there are no paragraphs.It may be hard to read, but if you bear with this story, it'll get better. I promise. ※〜※〜※ Picture this. A meadow of sparse wilted grass, desperately in need of refreshing water. The sky is smothered with a blanket of desolate grey clouds, turning the atmosphere bleak and dismal. But in the middle of this is a single rose. Its slender stem is curving in a graceful arc to the ground. Exquisite, frail petals are opening up to the heavens. A single beam of glittering sunlight is striking the blossom, illuminating and enhancing it to a pure scarlet color. That’s how everyone sees her. Their radiant, angelic little flower, adding a touch of color to even the most morose of scenes. Representing eternal hope, even when everything else seems impossible. No. Stop. Look at this image again. This alluring rose has something dark and twisted growing inside. This heart of ice, this soul of stone, is tainting the field. Snatching the nourishing beam of sunlight from the grasp of something that needs it much more. The dainty little thorns now look like lethal talons, prepared to impale anything and everything. Taking away the breathtaking beauty of its surroundings. That’s how I see her. Her true form, the snarling beast hidden behind a shadowy cloak of innocence. But who am I? This “all-knowing” seer? The only one who knows her true story; how she became the person she is today? That, I intend for no one to know. Well, at least not her. She can’t know of my existence. Not yet. Not until I accomplish what I need to achieve. Revenge. ※〜※〜※
※〜※〜※ "And so the deaths go, night after night," she murmurs, scrawling the sentences down in her leather-bound journal. "It can't be suicide, they say. The victims all had so much to love for. They're all just calamitous accidents. Seemingly unconnected deaths. Nothing in common. All from different areas of California. Pointless killings for a murderer. But for me? It's the perfect plan. A plan I've waited five years for." Ashlyn sighs and glances around the cramped room. A torn, filthy mattress rests in the corner, weary without a bed frame to support it. She's sitting on an old milk crate -- there are no chairs -- and her desk is an overturned recycling bin she found in the street. A ripped map dangles from a nail in the wall. The only real piece of furniture is a rickety table with a small television. Down the hall is a rank, dingy bathroom, and a minuscule kitchen with a bucket of ice for a fridge and a portable gas stove for both heat and cooking. Ashlyn groans with despair at her unfit living conditions. "It's not fair," she seethes, flopping onto the thin styrofoam mattress. "She gets everything. Every. Single. ****ing. Thing." The 22 year old huffily switches on the television. "Welcome to the Greater Los Angeles Area News, or, GLAAN!" the heavily airbrushed reporter announces exuberantly. "I am here in Hollywood with the famous Cecile Caye!" "Thanks, Melinda." Cecile smiles kindly at her. "Now, I understand you're going on tour around California. How does it feel to be a household name for both singing and acting? Also, you dedicated your newest song to your family, all of whom passed away in a tragic fire. Tell me more about that, too." "Well, to answer your first question, it's such an honor to-" "LIAR." Ashlyn abruptly turns off the television and slips a dagger in her leather combat boot. She will leave tonight. ※〜※〜※
※〜※〜※ The atmosphere is intensifying. Excitement darts through the air, shimmers off heat waves, and threads itself through every person in the immense crowd. Well, every person except one. The person in question shifts impatiently near the back of the line before deciding to step forward. No one notices her melt through the crowd. The guards continue to chatter away. She slips through the gates after a squealing family, her black clothes and equally as dark hair making it impossible to tell her apart from the shadows. The last of the crowd shuffles through the gates to the area within. It's a sort of field, with trees scattered haphazardly around and trailers clustered at the far end. Iron wrought fences and police blockers surround the whole place. Next to the trailers is a massive stage covered in balloons and other celebratory items. The crowd rushes to the front. Ashlyn lingers in the back, however, her amethyst eyes narrowed. "Everyone, please give a round of applause for Cecile Caye!" a voice booms, reverberating around the area. The cheering is deafening. Waving delicately, Cecile daintily steps onto the stage. She teeters on her bright red stilettos for a minute before beginning to speak. Ashlyn allows herself to smile in satisfaction. Everything about her is red. Even her blood that she'll spill later on. "Thank you all so much for coming. I'd like to sing this first song in dedication of my loving family. My mom, my dad, and my sister." With that, Cecile begins to sing. Ashlyn lets out a hiss of anger. Admittedly, Cecile's voice is enchantingly melodious, but she takes no notice of that as she stalks away. The knife in her boot seems tantalizingly sharp. Her mind is filled with thoughts, conflicting with each other. Now, or later? In the night, or the morning? Wait to kill more fans before the finale, so she'll become more depressed? She walks faster and faster, towards a group of trees. Then a hand roughly grabs her arm. "I know what you're going to do." ※〜※〜※