Sugar & Spice (Jeff The Killer)

14- Truths

The thing with being a cool girl or a bad girl, is that, deep inside, it's never who you really are. But it becomes who you think you are. And that might not make sense, but think of it this way:

You spend a bunch of time on becoming this image. You build yourself up with false confidence. You make sure you look killer in those knee high suede boots that you wear with your short skirts. You do your hair and make up every day. And you cut out your heart to kill any chance of feeling anything.

Because that's what it takes, not friends or a cheerleading captain title.

It takes amazing hair, a whole lot of intel on lip and eye products, a genius level intellect to know how to manipulate and control, and a dead soul that had to fake emotions to even feel anything at all.

And sometimes it's enough, but even some situations, it just-

Doesn't work.

Like with Jeff. He knows how to knock me down. And maybe it's because he's more of a man than I'd ever been with, but no high school boy I'd ever fucked could do that to me.

I ate boys, chewed up their hearts and spit them up. And for what? Fun.

I lost my virginity at 15 and decided sex was better than false friendships. I drew boys in, used them as a play thing, and then they became another notch in my bedpost. The way I saw it they would cause less problems for me. I saw it everyday at school, boys making girls cry. So I did it to them. I became the problem.

A bit of a love vigilante, if you will.

The boy I lost my virginity to was a senior who tossed me away after. I stole his bike and rode through paths in the forest just to calm my panicking mind. I knew I didn't want to be hurt and I knew I'd never want anything like my parents, so I became who I was when I first met Jeff.

Boys loved me and girls wanted to be me. I could toy with a guy for ages if I wanted. But not Jeff.

So, naturally, I had to break him. Hard.

It had been three weeks since Jeff and I had that conversation. We spent less time talking or joking or even playing each other's hormones. I'd want to say I didn't care.

But I kinda did.

Things were awkward, and I don't do awkward. I do confidence. I do control.

Jeff spent a lot of time outside. Stabbing trees and whatnot. You know, normal killer stuff.

He spent most time away from me while still being with me.

And obviously I knew why.

I'm trouble for a guy like him.

"Don't blur the lines, Rosalie," I muttered to my picture-perfect image in the mirror.

I blew a kiss to my image and strutted out of the bathroom.

Jeff was seated at the couch, staring at the blank tv. I walked right up to him and plopped myself down on his lap. He looked over my outfit as he began to tense up, a sheer shirt that was unbuttoned enough just to show a peek of my cleavage.

Teasing was key.

"I want you, but I know you want more," I stated, rubbing my hands over his tense shoulders.