HOMEWRECKER {18+}

19

O L I V I A

"Gabriel, hypothetically speaking, what kind of flowers are suited to give a villain?"

I asked the guy who was laying down on the other end of the couch with a blanket reaching his hips as we watched a random show on the TV.

"Flowers?" He turned his attention to me, turning his head on the comfortable cushion pillow.

The windows which covered an entire living room wall had rain pouring on them, while the rain drops raced with one another once they hit the windows.

The colorful autumn trees harshly blew away the leaves from their branches, as the storm outside made the dark gray clouds almost seem dark blue.

"Yes, flowers." I also turned my attention to him, cuddling deeper into the blanket Gabriel had given me.

The rain drops almost could be heard as bullets once they reached the windows and shattered into pieces. The shattered pieces of the rain drops ran down towards the end of the window.

Towards a few orange leaves which were also stuck on the end of the window because of the strength the wind carried.

"Villains, you say?" He mumbled, deeply into his thoughts until he found an answer like he always did to my 'hypothetical' questions or any questions for that matter.

"Give them the kind of flowers where they know karma is heading their way."

"What kind of flower is that?" I laid on my side, having my full focus on the guy on the other end of the couch.

"The type of flower you paint in red," We gazed at each other after the words left his lips.

Both of us knowing what he meant by that.

"Paint the most beautiful flower in red, which seem the loveliest in your eyes and the loneliest in theirs." He smiled at me, like he always did.

"At least that's what I would have done." This time the smile reached his eyes as he turned his attention back on the TV in front of us, leaving me with my thoughts.

A red flower, huh?

A flower painted in someone's blood, he meant.

✿

I rang the doorbell and withdrew my hand, which was covered in short red gloves.

My short red dress with long sleeves matched perfectly with my red coat and high heels. Even my sunglasses were red, shielding my eyes despite the absence of sun on this stormy day, with only dark clouds accompanying me.

I clutched tightly the bucket of flowers, waiting for someone to open the door. 

I heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door and gripped the flowers tighter.

An older woman, Eleanor's best friend, opened the door. She frowned at my appearance, despite Halloween being just around the corner and people dressing up freely. 

"May I help you?" she asked, her suspicion clear as she opened the door just halfway, peering out cautiously.

"Yes, you can." I smiled, almost smirking, my red lipstick and outfit making her regard me with distaste.

"With what exactly?" She wrinkled her nose, likely wishing I would just leave.

"I'm searching for someone."

My red sunglasses hid the joy in my eyes at the thought of destroying her.

"Who are you searching for?" Her eyes sparked with interest, cautious but curious.

My mother's best friend hadn't changed a bit. Her eyes always flickered with curiosity and a yearning for gossip, but this answer would devastate her.

"I'm searching for Olivia Vance."

A terrified expression crept over the woman's entire face, but she masked it, just as fast as soon it made its presence.

"I don't know such a person," She masked her pale complexion, trying to slam the door in my face.

I stopped her from slamming the door on me by gripping on doorknob, making it impossible for her to close it.

"In the records, a social worker wrote that you were her neighbor," I lied, almost laughing at the woman's reaction.

There were no records of a social worker from the foster home leaving anything like that behind, only that I had spent a good time at the foster home before I ran away and supposedly died during the coldest season of the year.

As the stated documents from the social worker were nothing, but lies surrounding me, since I didn't have a good time at the foster home.

My mother had payed any social worker off, as they stated how joyful my time has been.

Now I will show everyone how a joyful time living in utter hell feels like.

"I don't know a thing-" She shook her head, her eyes wide like someone had shot her in the gut.

"It says that her father killed himself and after-"

The woman stopped trying to close the door on me as she instead slammed it wide open, making me back away from getting the door slammed into my face.

"That girl is dead and she better stay dead!" The woman spat in my face as each word left her mouth.

Sorry, not sorry, I'm still alive and in front of your face, bitch.

"That's not a nice thing to say," I spoke in disbelief as the woman snarled at me.

"You're speaking about a dead girl, show some respect.. may her soul rest in peace," I gasped, sending out a fake prayer in front of the woman who was about to have a heart attack at any moment.

"You better go back where you came from, then dig into matters about a dead girl!" The woman yelled at the top of her lungs, something she enjoyed doing.

"But someone dropped this bucket of flowers at my office and told me it was for her," I said to the woman, pretending to be a social worker, working inside an office.

Pfft, what social worker goes around dressed in red? Unless it's the blood of children.

"What-What did you say?" She was baffled, gazing downward at the bucket of flowers I was holding in my hands.

"No, no, no, no-" The woman trembled with gritted teeth of fear and rage, that their secrets would come to light. All the things they had done, the crimes they need to atone for.

"Get out of my property before I call the police!" The woman shouted as she headed inside her house, slamming the door and locking it.

I turned around, biting into my lower lip as I walked away from the house, holding in my laugh because the taste of revenge was my new addiction.

It was sweet, fulfilling and bloody.

The reason I went to Mrs. Stewert's house and spoke lies is because she still stays in contact with my mother. Even if Eleanor Everett has made a new circle of friends, the old ones can be hard to cut off, especially when they share many dark secrets together.

My name WILL leave her lips once she meets up with my mother for lunch like they do almost every Friday since I had spied on them many times and their little meet-ups had a pattern of meeting up on Fridays.

Now all that is left for me to witness is my mother's reaction once she realizes someone is digging around where they aren't supposed to dig, and that is the empty grave of her daughter.