Dear Darcel,
Remember the day I first saw your bloodshot eyes? I don't think you saw them through me; you were so horrified at the sight of my smile. Remember that? The smile on my face the day you first saw me? It was a smile only a monster would love. It was a smile I loved. A smile that never leaves; it will always be a cut to remember. "Chelsea, smile," was the first thing you ever said to me, and the last thing you ever saw. "Hi, Darcel," I said back, the happiness your smile held draining from your face. "Is there something wrong, Darcy? You asked me to smile, now let me see that pretty smile of yours." You just stood there, as frozen as the pallid skin on your face. You were dead the moment you saw me. "What are you, Chelsea? You're not human, you can't be." You're voice was much more demonic than I had imagined. You said you were a singer; I believed you. You were an amazing singer. Your voice was like a screaming child, desperate to escape the clutches of a murderer. "You sound so much lovelier in person, Darcy." "Shut up! What are you!? Are you a monster!? TELL ME, YOU BITCH!" There's that desperate, little child. "I'd watch my mouth if I knew who I was talking to. I'm as close to human as a human can be. Is it my smile? Does this beautiful smile scare you, Darcy?" You'd think a monster would yell back at you; I'm not a monster, Darcel. "That's not a smile, that's a scar, Chelsea." "And what's wrong with a little scar?" "It's not real; you're not smiling." That's the beauty of it all! I may be happy or I may be on the edge of a chair. "I'm happy. I'm happy I get to see you. Aren't you? You've told me you loved me so many times before." "I'm sorry, I don't fuck monsters." "I'm not a monster!" You are one of the few people who have made this angry. You want to know what happens when you make a monster angry? This happens...
She'll tear into your skin, biting off any piece of meat on your body till there's nothing left but bone. Then she'll sip up any blood left behind, leaving nothing behind but the skeleton of the lovely and oh so beautiful, Darcel.
Dear Darcel, I just want to tell you that I'm sorry I used you. I was getting sick of sucking off 30 year-old guys and telling them to pay me in blood. I'm glad I killed you while you were still a virgin. You will not like the taste of men, Darcel. You were probably 99% lesbo anyway. I'm sorry I had to kill you that way, but, no one but me calls me a monster! If it makes you feel better, you're skin was so sweet, you're blood was so bitter. If you weren't such a bitch, I would have lied with you in the middle of that playground, talking about how pretty you where, how soft you were and how I got this smile. But you were a bitch, and bitches have to die. I'm sorry, Darcel. Save me a seat in hell. Maybe one day I'll get tired and find someone to drink me the same way I drank you.
