America's revenge ( fanfiction on The Selection)

Chapter 15

Never in her life had she ever even considered murder, and yet she had done several times these past few days. This week she had murdered Maxon, the mistress and one of the maids. It was quite impressive the queen hadn't   been caught yet. With heartbreak haunting her every move, the girl was now creeping the hallways of the likes castle. Aspen, she keeped repeating to herself. Aspen. Aspen. She had too, she thought. He would tell them otherwise. Tell them all about her secrets. He had to disappear. Tip toeing in her highheels, drops of sweat formed upon her brow. Her red hair sticking to the back of her neck, she felt every ounce of her body burn. She was so confused. How could she have become such a terrible person. How could she have let herself become this demon.

She was near the stairs now. They were curved and long, and always made America think of a pigs tail. She started with one step, followed by another. Then the pattern continued. The wind sifting through her ears, they were telling her to stop. She grew higher and higher from the ground and soon she was at the top. Once arrived she stopped. America is turned her head, left then right. No signs. She stepped forward. Her vison had been blurred. Maybe it was the stress. The anxiety? Her palm started to sweat now too to add to the matter. The poor Queen was loosing her mind. The corridors of the palace were wide and intimant doors showed themselves upon the light coming from the nearby windows. She halted. This was his door. She stirred her body. The sore itself was actually quite simple. Engraved and made of wood, this made her feel calmer in a way. The doorknob on the other hand, was completely made of gold (orders of the king himself). He had said all should be greeted with the outmost respect and equality. It didn't make sense to her on bit.

With her hands still moist she urged them closer and closer to her victim doorknob. Her eyes squinting she was terrified of what was coming.

He wasn't there. America stepped in the room looked in the closet, under the bed, on his balcony. Nothing! How weird.

To spend the time, America tried to find her deadly weapon. Searching through cabinets, the closet, nothing of importance popped up. Her eyes gazed back and forth the room of the one she loved, searching for just the perfect weapon of destruction.
She heard steps, coming close. Immediately realizing she was still in his room she reached for the nearest hiding spot ( Which happened to be the closet), and slammed its doors shut. Was it him she thought? Had he realized she was in his room?

Squinting at the crack of his small closet she huffed. Her breath nearly contained, she spied on the young man. Now being stuck in this closet, how was she going to kill him?