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Villainy was in her blood. She was the black ink blot that stood out among the heads of blonde hair. The sinister smiles received at every corner, the hollow laughter resigning through the halls of her childhood home. The blotches of dried blood along the white tile floors. The rotting smell of a corpse penetrating her nose, the cinnamon scented candles unable to mask the rot. She was the guided hand, the one holding the blade as her family watched on in pride.
Cerise Hughes was made to be a villain. It was an evil nurtured not born. From the time she could walk, Cerise was taught to lead with two stable feet in front of her, to always be precise with her transgressions. She was going to be the one to drain men and women of life, she was their reaper. The one after their souls. It was something she had been told from a young age. That she would grow into a harbinger of death.
While others fear it, she sought it out. She was the maker of the lost souls, the one to come knocking on the doors of those who have crossed her family.
The Hughes trained her to be a cold blooded killer. They fed into the darkness inside the little girl. Bringing body after body, watching as she'd eat their hearts from the palm of her hands. The blood coating her hands would forever haunt her.
She was not that girl anymore. Gone were the chains of death and welcomed the wings of life.
Good Girls Go Bad played through the speakers of the CD player, the beat vibrating the thin walls separating her from the next room over where some punk band was blasting louder than her own music of choice. With her lips tugged into a sneer of irritation she turned the knob to increase the volume.
It didn't take long for a fist to band against the wall dividing the rooms. The voice of her brother yelling at her to turn it down, was barely audible but Cerise ignored him in favor of sticking a cigarette between her lips. With the lung-killer hanging, she opened her bedroom window and sat on the cill, fisting the lighter from the pocket of her purple hoodie she lit the cigarette and took a drag.
She had just blown out the smoke when her door was thrown open by an angry looking redhead. His thick brows were drawn together as he glowered down at the young girl. "I said turn it down!" He stopped over to the CD player and turned the volume to six, knowing she had to follow a pattern of threes.
His eyes fell to the cigarette between her fingers and shook his head in disapproval. "Oliver is going to kill you." He snatched the pack off her dresser and stuffed it into his own pocket to dispose of later. "Assuming that doesn't do the job first."
"Teenage rebellion," Cerise shrugged. Taking another hit she leaned her head against the wall, she held it in the back of her throat, keeping it there for a minute before slowly releasing it. Tendrils of smoke surrounded the fourteen year old as she took in a deep breath, coughing into her elbow as she did. "You have your drug and I have mine."
