Death's Child

This is another story by yours truly! How y'all like it!
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Chapter 1
The "Date"

"Victor! What's talking you so flapping long?" I call up to my best friend. I look down at my watch, seeing the time. We only have fifteen minutes. I watch the miniature spider tick by, counting the seconds.

"Harmony, I'll be down in one minute!" he calls back. God, he takes too long to get ready for a trip to the movies. He's like a girl.

"Counting! Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven..." He runs down the stairs and falls in front of me causing me to laugh.

"Shut up," he says, standing. I push is blonde hair out of his gray eyes, smiling. He shakes my hand away, his hair falling back into his face.

"You need to cut that shit off," I say. He just laughs and walks ahead of me. I follow him, still talking. "I'm serious! That hair is blocking your eyes. It's easier knowing that you are looking at someone when you are talking."

"Goddamn. You sound like my mother," he says. "Wait, yours." I laugh, knowing how true it is.

"Shut up," I say, punching him in the arm as we walk on the sidewalk, heading to the theater.

"Ouch. I'm not one of your gal pals," he says, rubbing his arm. I snort, knowing that he is expressing his sarcasm.

"I don't have 'gal pals.' I'm a tomboy even though I'm a music prodigy," I say, looking at the large theater lights ahead.

"That's why you are my best friend," Vic says. I look at him to watch him flip his hair to the side, his eyes still covered.

"Okay, Justin Beiber, whose paying?" I ask, smirking.

"Not it!" he says.

"Fuck you." He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender.

"I'm paying, sweetheart," he smiles. This makes my heart flip. Sweetheart. I close my eyes and let that play over and over in my head. He may be playing Haymitch on my but I don't give a shit.

"Harmony, are you still here?" he asks. I open my eyes and give a shy smile. I nod and walk into the line to buy tickets. We talk about which movie to see and we find out it's sold out. So, we head to the pizza place a few black away. All we do is talk about which Paranormal Activity movie was best.

"I think the third was the best," Vic says, entering Pizza Inn.

"I don't know. The fourth is said to be the best. At least according to my mother's friends," I argue. I walk with him to grab pizzas, taking a plate.

"I doubt it. The third was the most realistic," Vic says, placing a slice of pizza on his plate.

"But, the fourth isn't the worst. That would be the second," I say.

"No, first."

"How?" I sit down at a table, picking up a slice of my leaning tower of pizza.

"It was the first. It was terrible because they had no experience making a movie." He takes a bite of my pizza, causing me to slap him with it.

"Ass. And the second was the worst. All sequels suck. And it was overall the worst!" I bite from the pizza that Victor bit from. And we keep arguing about which movie was the worst. When we start walking back home, we come to the conclusion.

"Okay, the second was terrible, but the first wasn't that bad. The third was the best and most realistic," he says.

"Right," I agree. I look over at him to see him looking ahead. This has me confused. What's more important than figuring out which Paranormal Activity was best and worst? Okay, almost everything. But, still, what could it be?

"What?" I ask, looking ahead.

"A black car. In your mom's driveway," he says, his eyes wide. He's thinking the same thing I am: my mother did something. Something bad.

"See ya later, Vic. I have to go!" I call, already running. I stop at the black car, looking inside it's black tinted windows. Sadly, I can't see a thing. I walk back in the house, slowly opening the door to hear yelling. Mom. And an unknown voice. Male. Thief? Doubt it. Police? I hope not.

"Mom? Is everything okay?" I call, grabbing a umbrella beside me. I doubt it will work. It could land me in jail. Oh, well. I raise it slowly as the voices hush.

"Harmony? How was your date?" she asks. I frown. Really? She had to call it that?

"It wasn't a date, for Death's sake!" I say. Yes, I'm a Death fan. As in Thanatos, the guy compared with Cupid except not with wings and Death usually wears a black cloak and carries a scythe. "Vic is just a friend! And it was terrible. The movie was sold out so we went to the pizza place a few blocks further." I walk into the kitchen, seeing my mother and man with my black hair and my almost black eyes. Uncle? Possibly.

"Harmony, dear. You have grown so much," he says, walking over to me. I lower my umbrella and look up at him. He's taller than me by a head, probably. He places his hand on my cheek but I push it off, glaring at him.

"Harmony, you look just like me," he smiles. His teeth are perfect. He must be rich.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, watching his eyes.

"Harmony!" my mother says, gasping at my language.

"Now, Melanie, it's fine. She's just like me," the man says, smiling at the blond woman. He knows my mother's name. Something strange is about to happen. I can feel it.

"Harmony, I'm Mr. Thanatos. But you can call me Death. Or Dad."

Okay, did not see that coming.
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And now, an update.
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Chapter 2
Welcome Home, Dad

Great, my father is Death. Or, at least he says.

"You, Death? Really? Doesn't sound likely. I mean, if you are my father and Death, how come my mother isn't dead? Why aren't you carrying a scythe? Or wearing a black cloak?" I grill.

"She isn't dead because I kept her alive. My scythe is in my car along with my cloak. And so are yours," he answers simply.

"Mine? What are you talking about?" I ask. My mother fidgets, trying to find something to do. She had ADHD like I do. She walks to the kettle and fills it with water. Tea time.

"We will talk about this after we leave. For now, let's catch up, shall we?" he asks, gesturing towards the living room. I walk before he decides to begin talking again and sit on the love seat. My so called father sits on the couch across from me and watches me quietly.

Finally, he says, "So, I hear that you are a music prodigy. What can you play?"

"Piano, violin, cello, flute, tuba, viola, guitar, drums, bass, trombone, piccolo, clarinet, oboe, and I sing," I say instantly. Those are just some of the few I play. I know how to play almost every instrument fluently.

"Quiet a talent. But I suspect that you know more than that, correct?" I just nod, not saying what other instruments I know.

"Well, talented, pale, black hair, black eyes. You are me, younger and a lady. I'm impressed," he says.

"I'm nothing like you. I'm loyal. I stay with the ones I love," I retort.

"Like Victor? Melanie told me all about that boy. You obviously like him a lot. He seems nice. From what I hear," he grins.

"He is only a friend," I growl. This man is quite right, sadly. I may have the tiniest crush on my best friend. Tiny, but it could be growing. You tell me. I haven't a clue.

"Sure. But I can detect lying, sweetheart. And you are a grade A lier. Got that from me," he says. He sounds like me. Sadly. He might be my father. I just need more information.

"When did you meet Mom?" I ask. He smiles.

"She had cancer. She was on her deathbed. I was a 'visitor' and I told her that it was time. When that happened, she made a deal with me: I'd keep her alive and she would have my only child. We agreed and a few months later, her tumor was gone and you were in her. Then months later, you were born and I had to leave. I got too attached and people who were supposed to die didn't. I had to go back to my job. And this is where you come in." He's right. My mother told me she was dying when she met my father. She thought he was Cupid but she knew it wasn't possible. Thanatos was mistaken to be Cupid without his cloak, scythe, and in a toga, or, in this case, in normal clothes.

"Nice to finally see you after almost sixteen years, Dad, Death," I say as my mother brings in tea. After she pours it into two cups, I pick up a cup and swallow the hot tea. It burns, but I can't feel the pain. I never feel pain, oddly. Must come from my father.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask him, placing the cup on its saucer. He takes a sip of the tea, watching my expression.

"Well, Harmony, sweetheart, it's time for you to take your job as my child. You are going to help me collect souls and take them to Hell."
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Not the puppies! Either way, this is an update!
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Chapter 3
I Get a Job, Old Memories, and an Unsaid Goodbye

"A job? Collecting souls?" my mother squeaks. Her squeak. She's nervous as hell!

"Yes. She is Death's child. I've said this countless times," my father says calmly.

"Actually, you have only said that once. And that's just now," I say. My father chuckles.

"I do not think so! She has a perfectly normal life! She has friends," my mother starts.

"Actually one, and that's Vic," I say.

"She has dances!"

"That I never go to."

"She has school."

"Which I can go without."

"Harmony Melody Sands, hush!" my mother snaps. I hold my hands in surrender and watch my mother ramble about things I don't have, don't care about, or don't go to.

"I think we should let her decide," my father says after ranting by my mother.

"Harmony, would you rather risk your life or stay with Mommy?" my mother says. I shake my head and glare at my mother, looking into her eyes. I see something, like a small fire. It seems to be shrinking as I watch. I've seen it before. Many times. My mother told me it was my imagination but I know that it's my father's trait.

"Mom, I'm fifteen, almost sixteen. I don't say 'Mommy.' I say 'Mother,' or 'Mom,'" I say. She frowns, like she already knows my answer. The small fire shrinks into nothing and you can see something transparent, swirling in her tearful eyes. "Dad, where will I be collecting souls? And can I say bye to Vic before I go collecting?" My father smiles, victorious.

"You will start around the area. About a fifty mile radius around the town square. And, I know how much you like him and how much you'll miss him, but I can't let you. We have to leave as soon as you tell me your answer," he says, watching me. I bite my lip and think about how I'll never see Victor again. How I might never talk to him again. How he might move on. How he and I might become nothing, not even friends.

"I...I guess," I say. I look down at my pocket, seeing the small bump of a phone. I'll call him later.

I stand as my father does, walking to my room. I grab a bag, stuffing it with clothes, pictures of Vic and me, a locket he gave me when we were younger, with our pictures inside it, and a recent present from Vic: a dress. He thought it would be funny, but I haven't ever worn it. I place makeup my mother gave me, a pair of her heels, and a few pictures of her in a separate bag. I look at the black poster-filled walls of my room. I'll never see this place again. I pull posters off of the walls and shove them into another bag. Three bags. I walk to my bed table and look at a pendant Vic bought with a movie once. The Hunger Games Mockingjay pin as a pendant. He gave it to me because he knew how much I love the books.

I grab the books and grab my bags, looking out the window to Victor's house. I set back down my bags. I can't leave without telling him I'm leaving. But, I have to. I look outside my window at the tree in his backyard. His tree. Our tree. The tree we laughed, cried, smiled, and actually talked. And we shared our first kiss there. But it was only to get it over with. It was only last year too.

We met at our tree, like we usually did to get rid of the world. We climbed high into the branches, knowing that we wouldn't be bothered there.

"So, how's life?" he started as he always did. We were in separate classes. Always.

"Boring. There's Morgan Reese. He's bullying me, again. But, I'm used to it," I said, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

"I don't understand why guys here have to tease girls. It's so rude and cowardly. I just think he likes you."

"He doesn't. It's all because I'm short."

"Guys like short girls. It's in their nature. Besides, I know what guys think. He's got a crush on you but he not manly enough to admit it." I grinned. Vic always knew. But, that got me thinking about dating. I was only fourteen. And dating usually lead to kissing. Kissing. I'd never kissed anyone, let alone hugged anyone other than Victor an my mother.

"Victor, have you ever kissed a girl?" I asked him suddenly, pulling my head off of his shoulder to look at him.

"Why the sudden question?" he asked, looking at me.

"I was just thinking: I'm fourteen, and a guy wants to date me. And dating usually leads to kissing. And there you go." I knew I was blushing. You don't just ask a question like that to your best friend...do you?

"No. Why? Have you?"

"No. I was just wondering." Then we went silent for a few minutes. Finally, he looked at me, his eyes not quite on my eyes. But my lips.

"Do you think we should just get it over with?" he asked. I bit my bottom lip, out of habit. He tilted his head down at me, giving me his nervous grin. I've known his nervous grin better than his mother or father for years. That grin that barely even curls his lips. That grin that he tries to make a smile.

"You need to quit biting that lip of yours," he said, actually whispering, so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Habit," I said at the same volume. Then he grazed his lips against mine, causing me to blink in surprise. Did that count? I didn't think so, so I kissed him this time, my lips firmly on his. A tingling took over my lips and decided to shoot through my body. When I pulled back, Victor just blinked.

"I...I have to go. Homework," I said and climbed down the tree, leaving him to think about what just happened.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of the memory. I can't get attached and say no. My father needs me. I feel myself tear up. I, again, shake my head, willing myself not to cry. Then I walk back into the living room with my bags and books.

"Let's go before I start to bawl," I grumble. I am feeling bad memories. I met Victor in this room. I had my first laugh with him in here. I shared angry moments with my mother about him not being my boyfriend after the kiss, which she saw while cleaning my room.

"Oh, baby girl, I'll miss you!" my mom exclaims, hugging me as a surprise. "Call me every chance you get! Love you!" I tear from her grip and wave as I walk away.

"Love you too!" I call as I shut the door. I put my bags in my father's trunk and look back to Victor's house.

I whisper to his house, "I'll miss you. Love you." I don't realize I'm crying until my father points it out.

"You'll see him again, Harms," he says, causing my throat to clench tighter. Harms. Vic and Harms. Now it's just Vic. Just Harms. Harms was a nickname Victor hasn't used for a long time. I just get in the car and watch his house, thinking about all the good times we've had.

As my father drives away, still watching the house, I ask, "Is his name on the list? For a recent death?"

"No, sweetheart. Not for years to come. Not until he's old and has children that had children that had children. He'll live a long life. And you will live to be very old, like me." I don't bother asking him what he means because I'm too busy playing my favorite sayings of Victor's in my brain. And with that, we leave my neighborhood, my town, my friend, my mother, and my life as I knew it.

In less than two hours, my life has been changed from the best life ever to a nightmare I wish would end.
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Update!
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Chapter 4
My New Life, Including a Nosey Ghost

"Harmony?" I hear. I blink to realize I've fallen asleep. Great.

"What?" I grumble, sitting up. He smiles and I realize that the car isn't moving and around us, everything is dark.

"You're home," he says, smiling.

"And where is that?" I stretch in my seat.

"Well, basically, Hell. Welcome home." I look around at dogs around us, only they don't look like dogs.

"Hellhounds," he says, getting out of the car. "There're harmless." I get our of the car and feel the nudges of the hounds. I pet them reluctantly, the hounds barking happily. I smile and walk to the trunk as they scatter, one following me. I pull out my bags and grip my books close to me as the small hound barks, his/her bark pitch high. Must be a pup. After all, he/she is small enough to pick up.

I smile as the tiny pup follows me into a dark castle, black as night. It follows me inside and my father watches me as he sits on a dark throne. He calls for a woman named Cloetta and I wait. The woman, Cloetta, has dark hair and she seems transparent. When I look down at her feet, I yelp.

"What is wrong, my dear?" Death asks.

"Where are her feet?" I squeak.

"I'm a ghost. I'm now your personal assistant. I'll take those bags. And I'll get rid of the hound pup," Cloetta says.

"Thanks, but I like him or her. They are cute," I say, picking up the pup. "I've always wanted a pup but my mother's allergic."

"Then you can keep him," she says, confirming that the pup is a boy. She takes my bags, he hands solid enough to carry things. Huh. Cool. I follow her, petting the pup I am naming Victor so I don't forget him. She opens a door to show my new room. Black walls, black carpet, black everything. Just my style.

"Thanks," I say and place down the pup. "Come on, Victor, love."

"You names him Victor? Why?" she asks. I feel my face go hot as I lightly feel my phone. She places down her bags and she gives me a small smile.

"Who is he? Is his name Victor too?" she asks.

"Well..." I hesitate. I shake my head as a never mind and start unpacking with her help, Victor barking and jumping around. I place posters of the Hunger Games characters, and other amazing posters that are dark and part of my obsessions. I place my three books over my bed and place picture of Victor and I around the room, causing my heart to flip at each picture I see.

"Is this him?" she asks, looking at a picture of Vic and I leaning on our tree, acting cool when we know we aren't.

"He's my best friend," I grin. "He's been my only and best friend for as long as I can remember. He's always been there for me." I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I wipe it away angrily.

"Best friend, eh?" she says, still looking at that photo. I hear her accent now. It seems Scottish. Possibly British.

"Are you British or Scottish?" I ask her.

"Australian. I killed my family and myself when I was nineteen. But, ever since, I've been a forced to serve my master Death, and now his daughter and wife. I've learned my lesson though. Centuries here to think can help you sort out some things."

"Oh." I place a few pictures of my mother and I on my bedside tables, but then switch one with the picture of Vic and I laughing. It's perfect. I grab one my mother gave me one night. Vic and I in our tree. That night. That one thing that changed us. That kiss.

"So, he's just a friend?" she asks, leaning behind me to see the kiss.

"This was nothing. It was just to get it over with. And did anyone ever tell you how nosey you were?" I place the picture back in an empty bag and slide it into my closet. The ghost woman shakes her head and watches the tiny pup.

As I start picking out clothes and placing them in the closet, I tell Cloetta, "You can leave, you know,"

"I do," the ghost says, "but I must stay and bring you to Death. He requested me to bring you as soon as you were finished."

"Well, you might as well leave as soon as you can. I have a personal phone call to make," I say, grabbing the dress Vic gave me. I sigh, shaking my head as I remember that he tried to make me try it on a few months back. I forcefully declined. He had to be fought down. By me. A girl. Hilarious.

"That is a pretty number," my assistant says, taking the fabric in her transparent hands.

"Vic gave it to me. He thought it would be funny. Then I beat him up. After all, I am a tomboy." I shove the empty bag into the closet and grab my last bag. I empty the last bag, pouring the small amount of contents from the small bag. The pendant, the locket, my posters, the heels, and the makeup. I shove the makeup in my closet, knowing that I might never need it. The heels are slid into the back of my closet and I place the locket and pendant next to the picture of Vic and I that is on the bedside table. I pin up posters with the help of my assistant. She grins as I sigh happily and I pull out my phone to find great reception even though we are in Hell.

"Now, please leave me for, like, a few minutes, please," I say, scrolling through my small list of contacts to see his name. I look up to find that she's left and I press the "call" button. Here goes the hardest call of my life.
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What shall they say?

 

New update, lovely readers!
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Chapter 5
The Late Goodbye and I Meet My Step-Mother

"Hey, thanks for calling to wake me up," he says, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. I look at my phone to find it around seven.

"Welcome. So, you overslept?" I say.

"Yeah. Hey, are you okay? Where is that poster of that boy from the book series you love? Your room seems bare. And I see your mother in there. I think she's crying," he says. I know that he's looking through his wonton to mine to greet me to find me gone.

"Peeta, also Josh Hutcherson, from the Hunger Games series, you dolt! And I'm not there," I say.

"What?! Why?!" he asks. The tiredness in his voice has been replaced with worry. I hate this so fucking much.

"I finally met my father and he needs a little help. I'll be traveling a bit," I say, sitting on my bed.

"That's great, I guess. But, will you be back?"

"I...I'm not sure. It's really complicated at the moment." I put my head in my free hand, sighing loudly.

"Well, I'm glad you called. If you hadn't called, I would have skipped class to find you and I would have totally flapping flipped. Call me later, okay? I have to get ready for the boring life we call school. I mean, I call school."

"Hey, Vic?" I say before he hangs up.

"Hmm?"

"I miss you," I say, almost instantly regretting it. Would he think it was weird? I hope not.

"I miss you, too, Harms. Bye," he sighs.

"Bye." I press the "End call" button and fall onto my bed. It feels so welcoming. Then a woman bursts through my room. Good grief, hasn't the woman heard of knocking.

"Harmony, dear! Oh, I've been dying to meet you since you got here!" she squeals, showing her too perfect and white smile. Her too perfect hair bounces and she speaks and her sea green eyes remind me of a deer's, wide eyed and surprised like she's about to get hit by a car.

"Have you flapping heard of knocking?! And who in this place are you?" I ask, spring up from my bed. She has feet, so I guess she's human?

"Yes! And I'm Percilla, you're step-mother," she says too cheerfully. God, you would think that she just won Miss Universe or was acknowledged by Prince William or met Josh Hutcherson or some other star I love to death.

"Oh, flap. Dad!" I say, the last word I yell. He walks into my room and puts an arm around Percilla.

"Yes, Harmony?" he asks calmly.

"When were you going to tell me I had a flapping step-mother?" I ask him, glaring at Percilla.

"Well, Percilla wanted to keep it a secret so I did," he says, grinning like an idiot.

"What the flap! First I get a nosey flapping assistant, then you tell me I have a too flapping cheerful flapping step-flapping-mother," I exclaim, throwing my hands up for dramatic effect.

"What does 'flap' mean exactly?" Percilla intervenes. This makes me want to kill her. She has the nerve to ask that? I'm surprised.

"Inside joke," I say, gritting my teeth and glancing at a picture on the wall. My step-mother looks at my father and he gives her a shrug. He, obviously, hasn't a clue. Good. She doesn't need to know about Victor:

"Look, when am I going to start collecting? I'd like to know now and then get ready."

"Later today. There is supposed to be a car accident around noon."

"Great. Bye now. I'll see you in a few hours." I stand and shove Death and Percilla out of my room angrily. I grab the locket and pendant and clasp them on behind my neck. Then I get a text.

"Hey, I'm bored and in history," it says from Victor. God, history. How normal. Time must fly down here. History is his third period. I check the time to see it's near eleven.

"Work," I text him back, rolling my eyes. We had always done this.

"Fine." That same, old, normal reply. I push my phone in my pocket and walk out my door.

"Harmony! What are you wearing?!" I hear that terrible voice of my step-mother's.

"Jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket, and tennis shoes," I say, glaring at her.

"Why would you wear that?! You are a young lady! You should wear a skirt, a blouse, heels, something that tells that you are a girl!" she squeaks, lightly grabbing articles of clothing as she squeaks.

"I'm a tomboy. What do you expect?" I say, popping a piece of gum into my mouth.

"Sweetheart, are you a lesbian?" she asks me.

"Fuck no, Percilla! I just have had one friend in my life and he is a guy. He has made me who I am," I say proudly.

"That's cute, I think. After all, you two are bound to fall in love. And when you do, you'll offer him a chance to live with you and he'll say yes. Then you'll have children. It will be adorable!"

"I don't fall in love. He's my friend. That's it. Now, I have to go." I push past her as she says something to me. My step-mother, the squeak-fest, is a pain in the flapping ass.
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Update.
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Chapter 6
Souls For the Taking and Two Terrible Surprises

I sit in the car with Thanatos, watching trees fly by. We're out of Hell and I've been silent since my encounter with Mrs. Death.

"I know that it's your first time, so I'll show you how, sweetheart," I catch my father say. What was he talking about again?

"Hmm," I say, pulling myself out of my small trance.

"Collecting souls. It is quite easy, though," he says. I just nod, thinking. This is insane. Why would I want to do this? Oh, yeah, I kinda don't.

"Do I need to do this? It isn't like I'm going to die without souls," I say, eyes still wondering out the window.

"Actually, now that you have been reveled to this, you need souls to survive," he says.

"What?" I ask. I turn to stare at him, seeing if he's lying.

"You don't have a soul. Like I don't. You have a need for the fire inside of everyone, which is a person's soul. This need isn't very large; most souls you catch will be released into Hell. But a few will enter into your body to replace to fire that isn't lit. Without any for a short period of time will kill you. Your soul, which is black, will eat everything inside you."

"How long?"

"About...a month, maybe less," he says as he pulls over, waiting. I check the time to find it a little after noon. "And now, we wait."

We don't have to wait for long. We see a dark colored car flips over.

"Drunk man. Around thirty. Wouldn't have lived much longer anyway," he says, getting out of the car. I follow him, watching him ahead of me. He pries the driver side door open and kneels, looking at the man. Dark hair, grey already streaking it. His face is covered in blood and a pack of beer is crushed in the seat next to him.

"Now what?" I say, getting on my knees.

"Place your hand on his chest," he instructs. I do as told, blood lightly flowing onto my hand. "Now say, Η φωτιά που έχει ανάψει πρέπει τώρα να πεθάνει. It's Greek. It means 'The fire that has been lit must die.'"

"Η φωτιά που έχει ανάψει πρέπει τώρα να πεθάνει," I say. A fire surrounds my hand and swirls around my arm until it enters my chest. I feel a small bit of power enter my body. I gasp, yanking my hand back.

"He's dead. And you are now going to live as an immortal," he says, standing with me. "We should go. Last time I stayed at an accident, I was the gossip of the village."

"Okay," I say, in a trance. I get in the car with my father. He drives off just as police arrive.

Later, as we are back at our home, I fall onto my bed. I groan, hating what had happened only moments ago. I sigh and I push open my closet to look for the secret photo when I find the worst surprise ever.

"Percilla!" I say, angry. She walks into my room, grinning happily.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she smiles.

"Don't flapping 'sweetheart' me, dammit! Where the flap are my clothes?!" I scream. I have dresses, skirts, blouses, heels, so much girly-ness, I just might puke.

"Oh, Harmony, you don't need those things," she says.

"Yes I do! This shit isn't my style. I'm a flapping tomboy! I hate dresses, skirts, blouses, makeup, and heels. I wear t-shirts, jeans, basketball shorts, sneakers, my hair in a ponytail! I am going to vomit all over you! This shit is killing me!" I am panting hard now. The woman is destroying me.

"Well, you will just have to deal with it," she says, her cheerful voice now evil and crude. "I'm your step-mother, and you will listen to me, you little brat. I know many things. But right now, you will have to get your crap together and listen to me."

"Fuck you, bitch," I say angrily.

"I hope you die, Harmony. I hope you do." I flip her off as she walks off. "By the way, I burnt your clothes. When you take those off, those will be burnt too."

I yank clothes off of their hangers and think about what to do with these clothes. There is nothing I can do since I haven't a clue how to fabricate any clothing. I look at the one thing that hasn't been moved: that black dress.

Fuck.
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Percilla. Hate her? Love her?