Mad Hatter

This Dream? Dream is A Killer

A worn out leather notebook laid on the dark wooden floor, a shaky shadow looming over it. The owner of said shadow, a girl who believed herself to be a woman, but was being leaded by desperation rather than intelligence. She accidentally fell into a hole too deep and now she can only see a small glimmer of light, almost nonexistent. Cold sweat dropped slowly from her frowning forehead and eyes started to burn with hot tears.

She had the answer to what she was looking for, her goal was now accomplished, but this was not what she expected nor wanted to find. The truth laid right before her wide eyes and no matter how many times she reread the words written in ink it wouldn't change. There were bloody finger marks on the pages, dry tear drops, and the words of an assassin.

She picked up the notebook once more, hesitantly, and let her eyes roam through the sentences one last time.

Entry #154

It's done.

That Unsatisfied bitch won't be bothering me and my Pretty Boy anymore. I burned her body so no one could find her, I'll be okay.

Now no one can get in between my happiness. I know I did the right thing, I know it. I'd do anything for my Pretty Boy. So sweet my Pretty Boy, I love him, and he's all mine now. Mine and only mine.

Thank God I listened to the voices, who knew they were right all along.

[Beneath the messily written words was a drawing of a woman with an x scribbled angrily on her, but you could see just enough of her face to know that was Angelica, now officially dead]

Maria shook her head, she didn't know what she was feeling. Repulsion. Anger. Desperation. Fear. Nausea. Definitely grief. All of their work had lead her to the answer, but she didn't want this answer. She didn't want Angelica, who was like a sister to her, to be, to be.....

Peggy and Eliza would be shattered by the news, even worse than Maria had. She didn't know how she would be able to speak such news to her girlfriends, who just like her still clung hopelessly to the tiny piece of hope at the bottom of the Pandora Box.

Maria now new that hope was useless.

She glanced at the phone on her hand, who she now recognized as Angelica's. Poor Angelica, who was also in love with Alexander, and didn't know what she was getting herself into. Her life had been stolen from her by a selfish monster, a horrible, repulsive monster, who didn't even realize how wrong he was. She had been murderer, tortured in horrible and unspeakable ways, all because she fell in love. Maria couldn't let him roam free any longer, couldn't let another person fall into his claws and watch more lives fall apart.

She knew it was reckless, the stupidest and most reckless thing she would ever do, but she had to stop John Laurens.

<<—~•~—>>

John gripped the knife on his hand tightly, chopping some vegetables in the small kitchenette. He was planning on surprising Alexander with a meal when he came back in around half an hour, and John couldn't wait. He loved feeding Alexander, it was a feeling he couldn't describe. He felt protective of him, possessive. The South Carolinian sighed happily, thinking of his boyfriend always made his brain release the happy chemicals. He was just so in love, it felt as if Alexander was the air on his lungs, the food on his stomach, the white cells in his blood. Everything he needed to be alive was Alexander. And may God curse anyone who does as much to think of taking that away from him.