In the Arms of a Villain

11

This is supposed to be a solo mission for her. Instead though, I'm driving and she's in the passenger seat sleeping.

She's gorgeous when she's sleeping.

We get to the border soon than later.

"Hey, we're here." I tell her.

She sits up, looking in the mirror. She reapplies her lips stick, blankly.

I've noticed, when she's just waking up, she has the blankest look on her face. It's not tired. It's not human.

It's completely blank. She's prettiest then. Blank.

I smirk. She gets out, shuttling the foot behind her. She grabs the goods from the back seat and her staff.

It's the weapon we decided on for her.

The buyers are ahead, shady looking, of fucking course.

They converse. They get handsy. I watch.

One of the men, grabs her ass and smirks.

"Kill him," I order her silently.

She can't hear me. Will she disappoint me I wonder?

She extends her staff, swinging it like a bat at his head. His skull caves in. In the light, the metal of the staff gleams on her face, as droplets Of blood seem to float around her.

She's gorgeous. A vision. Blank look, blood on her face.

She gets in the car, handing me the bag of money with a smile.

"I'm ready!"

I smirk, putting the car in gear.

"Well, fuck. You read my mind you know."

She looks up at me. "When?"

I pat her head, kissing her forehead.

"You really are my masterpiece. Of all the things I've done, you're the worst."

"You mean the best?" She asks.

"The worst is the best to me. Now, I have one more thing to do."

She looks ahead. Suddenly, she wipes her lipstick, smudging. I look over.

She looks straight ahead. "My makeup..." she whispers.

I frown. There she goes, being abnormal again. Something has definitely shifted in her mind.

I don't want her too far gone. Maybe she could benefit from a visit from Goldie.

"You know, you should go see Goldie today. I think it would make you feel better."

"Why would that make me feel better," she asks blankly.

I look over once more as we merge on the highway.

"Something seems off today. A few screws are looser than they should be. You need someone uptight to tighten them up. Goldie is the perfect candidate."

"Unscrewed?" She repeats, looking out the window.

"Yes," I confirm. "Definitely."

She smiles. "You have to be unscrewed to evil don't you?"

Now she's reverting to her default—dumb. This is the girl from a year ago who knew nothing. It seems to be her defense mechanism.

How interesting! She just keeps getting more and more fucked up!

"A little. But you're a little too loose right now."

"I'll go see Goldie then, teacher. Since you want me to."

"Good."

"I wonder if I get too unscrewed, what will happen," she says after a beat. "You like unscrewing me right?"

I cut my eyes. "Excuse me?"

She smiles looking at me. "Isn't it obvious teacher? You like hurting me!"

"Why would you say that?"

She keeps that bright sincere smile. "Because, it's true. You like seeing my screws loose. You like seeing me hurt others. You like telling me what to do. You like teaching me to be evil."

I smirk. "Does that upset you?"

She paused thoughtfully. "No! Not yet. You're my teacher. And I care about you. I owe you everything."

I pat her head. "You do, don't you?"

• • •

She puts her lipstick, getting ready to meet Goldie. He's been mighty quiet lately. Probably because he's interested in saving her.

He'll never save her from me.

"I'm leaving," she says quietly.

I nod. "Mh. See you a little later, baby."

She smiled. "See you."

She leaves, and I turn on the receiver. I don't trust golden boy.

Not as far as I can throw him.

"Hello, Sheriff."
"Dawn, how are you?"

I narrow my eyes. I hate him.

"Good. And you?"
"I'm fine. You look...sad. Is Roy hurting you?"
"No. No. He's helping as always."

I tune out for the most part. Sigh. Having to keep up with three mental health of my pet project is seriously a drag.

She comes back a little later, her eyes looking a little less crazy.

"Hey," I nod. She nods back, wiping off her makeup.

She paused looking at herself.

"My makeup," she whispers.

I narrow my eyes. "Do you feel better," I prompt.

She glanced at me. "Yes. Thank you. He was asking me what I felt most described me. An object."

I nod, about to start tuning out. Without the music in my head, I honestly don't know how I would survive.

My body count would be several times higher than what it is now.

"Yeah. I think I'm lipstick. It's so potent. It makes you look completely different. It kinda seems permanent—"

I tune back in.

"And then you wipe it off and it's gone. You were a whole different person, and then suddenly, you're you again."

Hence her obsession with her makeup. Huh. I don't address it, instead switching the topic to something more interesting—me.

"I think I'm like coffee," I state.

"Because you're good at keeping people awake?"

With terror. Heh.

"No. Because I'm bitter, and almost no one likes me without changing several aspects about me."

She looks away and then nods. "That fits!"