Miss Angelina [2024 Rewrite]

[2] - Majime

Florence had been unusually silent for most of the journey from the woods into town. She had whispered with Cleo, of course, but they'd both avoided my gaze. I couldn't deny I was embracing this change; there was so much more to appreciate when we believed we could hear perfect silence. I can notice the subtle breaths they were taking, lined with slenderness and patience.

My prey had been whistling - not incredibly surprising as I'd taught him to do so when he felt even the slightest semblance of defiance or bravery. It has been on and off throughout driving through the city - and when he stops, I can briefly hear him taking deep breaths.

I remember the first time I'd driven through this city with a man in the back; I'd had to sedate him and it was a terrible business. The morphine I'd injected him with had mixed with his Atarax and his nerves got the better of him - making it incredibly difficult to heave him through the rooms of my home - even with the help of my companions. He dripped blood all over my new wooden floor, ruining multiple rugs and forcing me to burn my favourite duvet set. He was dead the next morning - which was a terrible shame, if only because he had such loving eyes.

My eyes darted to and from the pavement; noting the faces of the drunk and promiscuous lining the streets. I take in the five-inch heels and the tight-fitting dresses on the women displaying their assets just right, and the groups of men with alcohol-swayed walks, and mutter to myself how thankful I was it was a Saturday night, and the town was alive enough to ignore the events of my night.

I can only imagine these men will take advantage of these women - with violence and corruption being such prominent aspects of this town it was an inevitable truth. A woman could just be passing by an alleyway and be swept up in a small group. Women in heels cannot hope to run away from a determined assault, after all. Her friends would be blissfully unaware until they found out she'd been missing a few hours later. It's possible that they turn up alive and well the next day but other times they aren't so lucky. A fact I could call a driving force.

"Miss Angelina, do you suppose, at some point..." Florence began hesitantly, interrupting her conversation with Cleo; much to her confusion. I raise my hand to her and put my finger to my lips. There were red lights ahead of me, and a group of people surrounding the street, and this van wasn't keen on keeping conversations inside while it was immobile. "Miss Angelina, I was only going to ask if I could... If we could go into town tomorrow night. Shan't you be done by then?" In that brief pause, I recalled the reason behind her request—I had a habit of insisting on accompanying her whenever she left the house.

I reach for the dashboard in front of me and retrieve a pack of cigarettes. I extend the open lid towards Florence, who declines with a polite shake of her head. However, Cleo eagerly seized one and placed it between her lips. I shrug, withdrawing one for myself, placing it between my lips, and tossing the pack towards Cleo. She takes the lead, collecting a lighter from her pocket, and snapping open the lid.