The Murder King (A First Draft)

In Which Mary and I Hang Out

        Mary is my best friend, besides Joshua of course.  We are both so sarcastic I can't even begin to describe it.  Our personalities match so closely that we even call each other "brother" and "sister".  It's literally like we are pieces of the same puzzle.  Corresponding pieces, that fit together under the right circumstances, but clash when they aren't.  We have some of the fiercest arguments ever, but then the next minute, we're back to being best friends.  I miss her.  A lot.  I've been worrying about her the majority of the time I've been in this iron box.  Her and Joshua. 

*** 

July 4, 2011 

        "You ready yet, Princess?" the sarcastic voice echoed from the bathroom.  "Mary, first off I've asked you over and over again not to call me Princess, and secondly," I call out to her from the living room, "I've been waiting on you!"  I can hear her maniacal laugh ring throughout the house.  A few minutes later, Mary emerges from the bathroom.  She has makeup on, which I hate on most people, but on her it looks beautiful.  She recently had her black hair highlighted with streaks of silver, which causes an otherworldly effect.  Her green eyes are brighter than it seems possible thanks to the gray eye shadow and eyeliner.  There is a very small amount of pale pink blush applied to her cheeks.  Her ivory pale skin stands out among the light gray knee length dress she's wearing.  Over all, she's drop dead gorgeous and I'm kind of afraid to go outside with her.  We might get mobbed by crowds of "thirsty" guys.  "Well, let's go.  But if we get mobbed, it's your fault..." I say as we open the door and walk out. 

        We were going out to the mall.  Mary wanted to surprise me with something.  Knowing Mary, she had found some new clothes she wanted me to get for her.  But when we arrive at the mall, she heads straight for a men's clothing store.  "Weird..." I say under my breath, "Hey, the women's stores are over there." "I know that.  I told you I have a surprise for you didn't I?" I can see the look on her face that tells me I'm going to be here awhile. 

        I don't really think about my looks all too often, but I guess Mary didn't want to be seen hanging out with someone who had no style.  She led me to the back of the store and told me to sit on one of the stools near the dressing room.  There are a few mirrors back here, so I examine my reflection in one of them.  I eat all the time, but I am still little more than a twig.  I stand an average 5'7''.  No one ever really thinks I'm a threat because of how small I look.  I prove them all wrong with a knife. 

        I look back at the reflection.  My light-brown hair runs down my face, pooling over my eyes and ears.  I love my hair, and it has always pained me to cut it short, so I don't.  My skin is pale, but not as pale as Mary's or Joshua's.  I look up at my eyes.  Those have always been my favorite part of my body, right up there with my hair.  My eyes are hazel;  Green with small flecks of orange near the pupil.  I just love watching my eyes.  When I was little, I thought that they changed colors when I changed my emotions.  Sometimes I think they still do.  More blue when I'm tired.  Streaks of red when I'm angry.  I've been told that my eyes give away everything.  I see Mary sneaking peeks at them throughout the day, seeing how I felt, judging my mood. 

        Right about this time, Mary comes back with more clothes than I've had to my name my whole life.  When I was little, my family wasn't poor, but we weren't rich either.  I didn't have fifty shirts. That just seemed wasteful because I would never use some of them.  I guess Mary doesn't care about being wasteful, because she tossed the pile at me and pointed towards the dressing room.  I look through the clothes and see that she's already paired them into outfits.  So, I try on the first one.  A black polo, skinny jeans, and a pair of weird boat shoes.  I walk out and she does a little cat-call.  Well then...  That was demeaning.  I try on each consecutive outfit, turning down some for being too restrictive and others for being too loose.  I'm not sure where she got my sizes, but I suspect that she has been snooping through my closet.  After an hour or so, we leave that store with five new pair of shoes, fifteen new shirts, and ten pair of jeans. 

        Mary cuts straight across the mall to a different store.  "What are we doing here?" I question as I see the name "Ink, Pierces, and More" on the sign.  "We're going to raise your cool factor by about 10,000 marks," came Mary's mocking reply.  "I didn't sign up for this!  I don't want your charity!" I scream as she pushes me into a chair.  "No one cares, Princess." 

        When I wake up, both of my ears and my belly button are pierced.  "I hate you..." I mumble as sleep overtakes me again.