What would you do if your life was in shambles? If your father acted like he hated you and your mother acted like she couldn't hear anything other than the television in front of her? What options are left? My options weren't the best. I couldn't ri...
PROFILE: NAME: Lucille Elizabeth Larson DATE OF BIRTH: July 27 1983 DATE OF DEATH: April 13 2002...
Well, they got that much right. My name, my birthday, my "death day." But that's the thing; I never died. It was only presumed I did because I disappeared from the face of the planet for about four years before I came back a new woman. ...Demon. I came back as a demon. I'll get into that later. For now, you should learn who I am if you're actually going to understand this story. My name, if you haven't figured it out already, is Lucille. Lucy for short. Let's see...description...I'm about five foot five, my hair is a medium shade of brown that falls down to my waist...Purple eyes. That might be the most obvious thing, but not a lot of people see it often. Purple eyes is rare, Alexandria's Genesis is what it's called. Supposedly it shapes those with purple eyes into "perfect beings." I roll my eyes as that. We are far from perfect. At least I am. My life was a mess, but I managed to get it straightened out. Took well over thirty years, but hey. It worked out.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
"But, it says in the profile that you lived from 1983 to 2002, that's only nineteen years!"
Yeah, and? Like I said, I pretty much disappeared off the planet. I didn't die. I was reborn. Two very different things. I was nineteen when it happened, that's all there is to it. You're probably getting bored of hearing me talk, so let's go ahead and get you caught up to where I am now.
Oh, and by the way? Don't let this story convince you that this was the only path in my situation. I had plenty of options, I just decided to choose the road less traveled.
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JULY 27, 1983
This was the God-forsaken day I was brought into this world. It wasn't long after I'd started living, I'd say...four or five years until I realized how much I would hate life. My father wasn't the best, he started out okay but then he lost his job and let himself go, drinking a beer almost every day and progressively getting worse. My mom was...is brain dead. Not really, but that's the term I use. She hasn't spoken more than two words in all my teenage life and she's been no help to anyone ever. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she doesn't ever look away from the television. She just sits there on the couch, her blue eyes glazed over as her mind becomes filled with insensible knowledge that means nothing. I don't even know if she can react to anything else. Anyway, bottom line is that my parents are crazy, and what they do is even crazier.
NOVEMBER 12, 1987
I remember this day a bit too well. This was when it really all started. It was a Thursday, I'd just started Preschool. It was that day that Dad lost his job. He came to pick me up like always, the old rusted car having problems as it always had. I pulled open the door to the back and crawled in, closing the door behind me before grabbing the seat belt and strapping in. Dad didn't have his normal greeting, the "Hi Luce, how was pre-k?" I looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, seeing that he looked agitated. I leaned back in my seat, placing my hands on the seats beside me.
