Pretty Twisted (short story)

chapters 3, 4 & 5

Chapter 3

With only minutes left until midnight I pull out the four knives that were pining her down from her arms and legs, watching with glee the fresh blood that was spurting everywhere, watching her face pale by the passing second I decide I need to close the wound not wanting a repeat of last week.

The only thing I can think of is to heat up my knife and press it to the wounds, sealing them shut. I do this quickly enjoying the screams of agony coming from her mouth, her voice so pretty it's like the tinkling of bells. Well I supposed if bells could scream in pain then that's what it would sound like.

I manage to stop the bleeding on her four main wounds; the lacerations on her back and abdomen from when I carved pretty pictures are still trickling blood though, luckily not enough to kill her. With seconds left I pull out my dagger and plunge it into her heart on the first stroke of midnight tolling from the bell tower. Then again on the second, and the third, and forth. I couldn't stop it was too much fun. My hands, face and clothes covered with her blood, the sent invading my nose giving me an amazing high. As the final stroke tolls I finish with her torture and begin to sort out her beautiful face, one so familiar and similar. I wipe my hands and rid them of blood and I begin to gently clear her face of blood and dirt, being especially careful near her gorgeous scar, the letter R, the next letter on my list. I pick up the scarlet lipstick and dab it on her lips, next the rose blush, adding unnatural colour on her deathly pale face. Finally the metallic eye shadow, making her blue eyes pop. I brush her long golden blonde hair, and splay it around her head. All this to complete the transformation to Her. Finally finishing I stand up and take one finally glance at my work of art before I disappear into the night.

Chapter 4

As I stumbled down the stairs I felt like my brain would explode from the panic, the stress, the horror. I slumped on the chair to realise the room was decorated with different exotic flowers, sculptures and candles all the decorations for the summer cocktail party. My mum and dad, like always, were rushing around; they were organising everything for the party, and luckily it was too hectic for them to notice me. I tried to forget, but the thought of what kept happened was eating away inside of me. The guilt was unbearable, the scene kept replaying in my head. With great difficultly I ate my breakfast, whilst watching the news, the report of victim 4.

"Carman, could you do me a favour? Could you get the box of decorations from the basement darling?" called my mum.

"Sure"

At this point I'd do anything to leave the room, to escape the eyes of the staff that were hired for decorating. Every year I look forward to the party, however this year I couldn't feel any more different toward the idea. I walked down to the pitch-black basement and when I finally found the light switch I went on a search for the decorations. After hunting around I, at last, found it! As usually the maid brings everything up from the basement, I decided to wonder around, maybe I'd discover something new.

There were stacks of boxes named 'Baby Carmen' but there was one in particular that caught my eye, it was quite small, old and tattered, the writing had faded slightly and read, what I made out to say 'baby'. Carefully I opened the box, lifted the flaps, peeling off the tape, ensuring not to tear the fragile cardboard, unsurprisingly the contents was covered in a thick sheet of dust. I wiped the dust away with a cloth and saw a few toys, quite old looking, small rag dolls, tattered teddy bears and wooden cars. Like a child, I sat there playing with them, delving further into the box. For a short moment I was happy, for a short moment I had forgotten all the previous feelings but then I saw something glimmering under the dirt, I blew off the dust to see a beautiful golden locket, I had the sudden urge to try it on, like it was calling too me.

Curious, I looked glanced at the box again; there were some crinkled, torn papers at the bottom. The letter was from the adoption agency. Peculiar, I thought but I continued to read on. Most of the words were unreadable; however I got the jist of it.

Name: Ca men Cres wel

dopted by John nd Lu y Cr s

irthday 13/7/1996

birthp rents mith

iblings: rlet Hardi

I couldn't believe it, as if I didn't have enough on my plate to worry about, I was adopted and worse I had a sibling I never knew about. It's all too much to take, everything seemed to be getting darker, fuzzy, and before I knew it I hit the ground. I was unconscious.

"Carmen, where are you? Are you okay? You've been down here for hours" I heard my dad saying faintly. "Oh my goodness! Darling, come down here quick, Carmen's fainted"

I heard footsteps getting louder and louder as my parents came toward me. I felt my dad's arms wrap around me and something cold on my forehead. I open my eyes slightly, my head was thumping and everything was still a bit hazy.

"What happened? Do you feel okay?" Said my mum, with her soft, gentle voice. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

"I don't know, I can't remember anything, I'm, I'm fine, I think?"

My dad lifted me up, and carried me up the stairs. He placed me on my bed, and arranged the pillows beneath me. I still had the scrunched up paper in my hand so I held it out to them, my mum picked it up from my hand, she looked puzzled, but that was until she opened it out.

"Carmen, I'm sorry you had to found out this way darling. We've been meaning to tell you, we've been waiting for the right time and it's just everything's been so hectic recently. I guess we should tell you"

And they did tell me, they took hours and told me about the locket, my birthparents, how they noticed me in the agency and about my sister, Scarlet. I sat blank, like a doll. I was speechless, I didn't know what to do, it was all too much to take in. I felt sick, my parents waited 16years to tell me I was adopted, 16years to tell me I have a sister!

Chapter 5

It's been a week since my last escapade, my blood lust is growing stronger, I feel the urge to kill more and more to feed my addiction. This along with my desire to break Her, to kill Her from the inside, helps me formulate my plan.