Sapphire Blue [The Grim Reaper Chronicles, #1] (Editing)

Chapter Nine

Evelyn Bridgestone stood in front of the big vanity mirror in the room, admiring her beautiful features with a poised look on her rich and charming face. She placed a hand gracefully on her curved hip and ruffled her baby jet black her with a protruding elegance. Her neck-reach hair curled up into oily strands around her fair neck, her dainty and innocent look twinned up with her compelling sublimeness. If she was to get married one day, it should be to a wealthy king who lived in a magnificent palace in another country with plenty of maids and messengers, because she truly deserved to be a queen. She thought inwardly and a smirk appeared on her blazing red lips. If her parents were alive, her dream would probably have been turned into reality, because she was sure they would let a damsel like her do whatever she wanted.

She was beautiful. She repeatedly reminded herself and looked into the mirror again to admire her radiance, and a smile spread on her lips. What mattered most to her was being sexually enticing to guys. It would do a lady no good if her boobs were not pointing toward whoever was going to suck on them. It was a red flag from her if she was the guy. And her face shouldn't be ugly and not kissable, and her ass not perky and soft enough to be slapped. A guy should be able to caress the fats with a bright smile on his face. That was her theory.

She was attractive to most guys in town because she was the most suitable person eligible to meet their standards. Eighty percentage of them always loved to take her on dates and have fun with her because, why not? She was of legal age already, and she could go to wherever she loved anytime of the day. Nobody would be there to stop her. Instead, they always had her back.

She had money. The people she moved with were influential, and they influenced her life monetarily. They got her everything she wanted before even asked for it. A person blessed and so perfect as she was surely deserved all the good going. There was no doing chores In her world. Just get your package and keep the party going. That was exactly what she always did.

She would have moved away from the orphanage long ago if not for the delay she was having in securing an apartment at the moment. The woman in charge of their personal informations wouldn't release her records to her, with claims that she wasn't qualified to live on her own. And there was no way anyone would lease a house to a girl who they think was underage. She got mad each time she was refuted. It was like a needle being passed into her nose. She was a hot commodity, and people like shouldn't live with the lower class. She had cash rolling in, parties in line to be attended, guys to have fun with, and every other thing a teenager could do in their time. It wasn't proper that she still lived here. She perhaps would talk to Mrs Alice about it when she was less busy.

Getting the satisfactory look she wanted from the mirror, she tilted her head upward and walked away from it with the air of pride lurking around her, to her beautiful and specially made bedside. She took a sit on the soft foam dramatically like she was sitting on a throne that belonged to her and brought her head back its normal position. She wasn't the only one who cherished her good luck. Everyone did. Such was the type of life she lived at the orphanage because everyone inside and out the room feared and respected her; she was the fearful Evelyn. No one had ever crossed part with an idol like her.

Never had she lost to anyone in history, be it fights that required fists and blows, battle of words or even beauty pageants. She was always winning the trophies because she had all the qualities needed, and no one at present or the future would be able to beat it. She was the Evelyn everyone loved.

Evelyn smiled dreamily for some moment, holding lovingly onto her most expensive flush-pink crystal hair brush. One of her guy friends had gotten it as a gift for her on valentine. But then, she suddenly froze when she remembered what she didn't want to.

Samantha adams.

She gritted her teeth in hatred and threw the brush away in anger, the poor little object shattering into a million pieces on the polished wooden floor. She hated herself at this moment. Everything would have been perfect if Samantha wasn't in the picture. The slutty bitch made her fume anytime she came to her mind, and now she just couldn't take it anymore because it was becoming unbearable. There was absolutely nothing Samantha had that she didn't have, yet people preferred her over her for some silly reasons she badly wanted to know. Maybe it was because Samantha had longer hair and probably, more curvy sides. Damn her! It was a lie that she had the best sexual appearance. She just couldn't admit that Samantha was better.