Killer Beauty

.01

"So, how is it there?" My mother asks over the line as I brush foundation onto my cheeks. I catch the reflection of a shelf full of tiaras and trophies and feel my mood dampen.

        "It's . . . quaint." I answer honestly, setting the brush down. I pick up a tub of liquid liner as she laughs into the phone.

        "I've never heard you be quite so enthusiastic." She taunted, making my lips twitch in a half-hearted smile.

        "I won't tell you it's the most exciting place in the world. I moved away from all that." I say as I begin to line my eyes.

        "I know, I know. I was just messing around with you." She jokes. "I'm glad you took a break from competing. Maybe let some other girls win." She teases, unknowing that the mere thought of being replaced or beaten makes my blood boil in a way that scares even me.

        I laugh, nevertheless. 

        "Have you met anyone?" She inquires, and, though I'm glad for the change in subject, I can't help but feel slightly annoyed.

        "As in a boy?" I question back.

        "Yes, Sparrow. A boy." She clarifies, sounding slightly distant. I can hear her rummaging through pots and pans.

        "No." I answer after a moment of silence. "No one here really catches my eye."

        "Maybe he's just hiding." She says humorously.

        "Mmm." I murmur. "Damn."

        "What?"

        "My eyeliner is uneven." I sigh.

        My mother snorts. "Always concerned with beauty."

        I smile. "It's a habit."

        "I'm sure no one in that little town is half as pretty as you, darling." She assures.

        "Just in case." I smirk as I apply a thick coat of red lipstick. "I got invited to dinner by the neighbors so I'll talk to you tomorrow."

        "That's wonderful, Honey. Talk to you then." 

        I hang up and slide my heels on before grabbing my coat off the back of the chair and heading for the bedroom door. I flick off the light switch and make my way down the hall, eyeing the paintings hanging on the wall. One of Elvis, one of Marilyn and one of Johnny. 

        I'd unpacked the upstairs quickly, because I hated the clutter. Downstairs, however, was crowded with boxes of silverware, DVD's, and other random things. 

        I travel down the stairs, pulling on my peacoat as I check the time. Dinner was at eight and it was already seven-fifty-five. I liked to be punctual.

        Pulling the hair out from the collar of my coat, I stalk into the kitchen and grab a plate of freshly made cookies - the kind I'd never eat because of the calories, but bought for the occasion.

        The smell tempts me, but a look at the mirror in the foyer makes me think twice. Shaking my head, I tuck my purse onto my shoulder and lock the front door behind me.

        It's cold outside, but there's no sign of snow. I walk down the porch and make my way next door. A white house with a crimison door and a porch swing.

        I ring the doorbell at exactly eight in the evening. I hear shuffling inside as I bite the inside of my cheek. 

        "James, could you get that?" I hear from inside. The nice woman I'd met at the grocery store earlier.