Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ It had been exactly three hours since Mea had left her Ranch and Ray behind. Apparently he had been sleeping with little miss Annabelle behind her back. The Deputy actually thought Mea didn't know what was going on. Did he really think of her as that much of a loser not to catch on soon? The little tart Annabelle, spreading her legs for whoever she pleases. Tapping her fingers on her truck steering wheel, her eyes occasionally glanced to the back seat of the truck. There lied unconscious was a woman she picked up in the city. Pretty little thing she was. Clubs and bars were generally the best place to pick up someone. No one really cared where the person was going, or who the person was with. Either everyone was generally so screwed up that they hardly ever remembered anything. It was so easy. Mea could fake her interactions with people so well. She had to, her secret didn't permit otherwise. In less than a minute, her thoughts took her off to how she had acquired the girl in her truck. Chelsea, was it?
The rhythmic sounds of the music was heard coming out of the club as Mea pulled up. It was true. She had feelings for Ray, even though he was a goofball of a person she still cared for him very much; but he betrayed her. For awhile Ray kept her grounded, the fix for her addiction barely kept. Though with Ray..it wasn't as overwhelming. Moving inside the club she kept her eyes down, sitting herself up at the bar. Ordering a drink she noticed a pretty, yet very drunk girl sitting a couple seats down from her. Mea found her watching her from the corner of her eyes. Every time she glanced over at Mea, Mea gave her a small coy smile. The Rancher's Daughter could really put on the charm if she wanted to. Minutes later the girl had got up, walking away from the bar and toward the entrance of the club. Her eyes went over her shoulder to Mea before sauntering out the door. A smirk curled at her lips. This was getting to easy for her. "Don't get cocky.." she reminded herself. Any slip up and this could go horribly wrong. Drinking the last of her drink she paid the tab and walked out the door after the girl, her hands in her pockets.
At the far end of the club building stood the female, her back against the wall before slipping into the alleyway. Keeping the same pace she soon met the girl her fingers trailing up her jawbone. "Hello beautiful," her voice purred, their lips barely apart from each other. The smell of vodka was heavy on the woman's breath as she replied to Mea's compliment with a smile. "My ride is just over there..Wouldn't a pretty thing like you like to accompany me to it?" she asked, her free hand sneaking around the girl's waist. The girl met Mea's lips with a yes. Mea kissed back gently, her hold around her tightening. Breaking away from the girl she guided her to her truck.
Upon arriving here, Mea took the initiative to parking out of sight of most people. The closest car to her was the one pulling out and driving out of the parking lot. As they rounded to the passenger side of the truck, Mea made sure no one was in view as arms quickly went around the woman's neck putting her in a sleeper hold. The girl flailed, trying to yell for help but that hardly went far. Mea squeezed her arms more. The thrashing girl soon went limp in her arms. Her breathing still subtle, Mea wasn't going to kill her so quickly. As others perceived her as a sweet, gentle girl who lived with her sick father, they never knew the true side of her. There was one such person, but she had to let him go and distance herself from him. He was far to smart than anyone in town. Everyone where she lived were so clueless as to what really went on. Mea couldn't pay the Ranch off with just the money she earned from working part-time at the feed shop. There was plenty money to be found with trading off organs and body parts. After her mother died, Mea just felt a rather large hole in her heart. The matter only got worse when her father had succumbed to the exact same sickness her mother had. It was only a matter of time before he died, but now she could afford for him to receive the proper medicine to make his sickness less painful than her mother's was.
Making sure the girl was fully unconscious, Mea took her in her arms and placed her in the back seat of the truck. Kidnapping someone in broad daylight? Success. Especially when no one paid attention at clubs. Reaching her hand into the back pocket of the passenger seat, she grabbed a few zip ties. Putting the woman's feet together by the ankles and tied them up, the same with her hands. Grabbing a bandanna from the center console she stuffed it into the girl's mouth. A few minutes later Mea was headed out of the city, wiping her lips off of the kiss and spitting out the saliva. The girl was lucky to have left before traffic. Then again, she wasn't going where there was traffic to begin with, anyway.
Mea's thoughts then flashed back to the present, what was going on there and now. She had mapped every possible way out of the city back to her home just in case she needed to go different ways then normal. Mea hoped the girl stayed unconscious until Mea had everything setup just the way she wanted it. She really didn't want to have to pull over or bruise up that pretty little face. Her tools were for that. Pulling onto the old farmer's road back to her house she kept on the look out for Ray.
That's all she needed was for him to find out her little secret. On top of that her actions around him wouldn't be able to be held accountable for. She would have probably straight up murdered him and have him disposed of before her sleeping beauty woke up. He didn't deserve her room. There was a room in the far outreaches of her Ranch, tucked in some trees. Mea had an old abandoned storm cellar as the room where she killed her..Victims? No, the word didn't give them justice. When in the process of doing her ritual, she felt it was the only way she could truly connect with someone. When in someones final hours..is when they were really honest. No bullshit about God, or about how they were going to ******** her up. They simply couldn't. Mea was in control. Sighing out of relief Ray was nowhere to be found. Opening the gate that lead to her secret room, Mea jumped back into the cab of her truck, drove forward, closed the gate then hopped back in.
It only took a few minutes to get to her room, parking her truck behind a thick bunch of trees and weeds. Leaving her truck again and making sure her soon to be next kill was asleep, she went down inside the room. The cellar was cool, and dark. The only light provided from when Mea turned on a switch for it. Turning on the switch, the room lit up all the features it had in store. Tight leather straps hung from the ceiling, her tools laid neatly on a small cart that she could move around while feeding her addiction. Everything looked fine, completely in place..
It was time.
Moving back up to the truck, the girl from the club still passed out. What a buzz kill. Mea wanted the girl awake before beginning. Mea held the girl in her arms as she went back into her cellar, cutting her arms and legs free while undressing her. The girl hung nude when Mea was done, slightly waking up. "Finally you wake up. I was beginning to get worried," Mea's voice had a dark humor to it as she walked to the door of the room and closed it. Her hazel eyes took in the girl upon walking back down the steps. "W-why are you doing this?!" the girl stuttered, her voice absolutely seething with worry. A small smile twitched onto Mea's face as she turned to her cart, pushing it forward so that it was right by the girl. "Ah, that question..it seems that everyone I bring here asks my purpose of this," Mea grabbed a small scalpel, her index finger running from the girl's thigh to her knee.
"If it's money I promise I can pay you!" the woman promised, but Mea had no hear of it. No one was so willing to give her such money she needed. At first, Mea couldn't handle doing this. It would tear her apart; but as her dad got sicker her heart started to harden even more. She even started to like it, which in turn, turned into an addiction instead of a need to help her father.
"I don't believe you can give me what I need," Mea soon then placed the blade up to the girl's thigh, cutting her deep. She ran the blade all the way down to her knees, the girl's cries of pain wailing through the room. And there it was. The red, intoxicating liquid came oozing out of the cut, running thick from the freshly made wound. The blood soon then started to run down the girl's legs as she made another slice across the stomach. The woman soon started coughing as she began to cry harder. "See, we all have certain..needs," Mea inquired softly, placing the tool down and picking up another one with a bigger blade. "Like your need to ******** everything, and mine, well.." her voice trailed off as she connected the cut from the stomach, cutting straight down the middle of the woman's breasts; blood pouring out even more. "Please stop, please!" the girl cried, but Mea couldn't. She had only just started; Mea would make sure the girl stayed alive until she was through with her. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- Confronting Ray had been a mistake. There was no backing out of that now; John had done something wrong. He couldn't remember the last time he had lashed out like that, but the tingling in his hand didn't feel odd or strange. As much as he was trying to deny it, driving away from a crushed Ray, it actually hadn't felt half bad. It wasn't just the punch either. The anger had been so refreshing – rejuvenating. He felt as though he was alive for the first time in so long.
No. He couldn't think like that. That wasn't him. Years of earning a rapport with the entire town couldn't be blown away just like that. Everything had to stay the way it was: he had to be Cat Creek's model citizen. If he was anything less, he knew he would break his mother's heart. She had pushed him with his father too much, led him down the path for too long to let John just throw it all away like that. They had beaten and lectured and punished the anger out of him. He couldn't allow for those walls they'd help him build to come crashing down. But if he was so dead set against it, why were his hands shaking at the thought of hitting someone again?
His inner turmoil was put on hold as he saw what was unmistakably Mea's car. John knew she was a strong girl and wouldn't have broken down over what Ray had told her, and wouldn't have lashed out at him the way he had. She could keep everything together - hold that perfect innocent smile for seemingly forever. The first sign of pressure and John had gone off the rails. Still, he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was okay. They spoke often enough, well, he spoke and she listened to whatever grievances he had, but he should have given her the chance to vent.
Pulling to the side of the road, he stopped and watched Mea's truck disappear off a dirt track. Now he was torn. She could want to be alone, after all, it wasn't very often that he saw her drive to that part of the ranch... Well he couldn't really remember a time when he had seen her out there. Maybe once, twice at best. Would she feel worse for him choosing to chase her?
The thoughts and arguments tumbled over each other in his mind as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel. This wasn't a scenario he was used to. Arguments between couples were things he was never caught in the middle of. He was the level-headed external conscience, but he was hardly that now. What Ray had done involved him as much as it did Mea. Right now he wished he had his own friend John to tell him what to do.
In the end, what choice did he have? He chased after her. The dust had already settled, her truck was gone from view, but he followed down the road. When the trees loomed in front of him, he decided to go the rest on foot, regardless of how far he would have to walk.
It wasn't like John to just go sneaking about, but in the silence, he didn't want to go around disturbing it. He wandered about, trying to figure out where she had gone. They had never been there before. John could have sworn he knew every inch of her property, but this was as foreign and strange as the big cities. This was definitely her private space, but he didn't want to turn back. The same way there had been one thing in his mind when he had gone out searching for Ray, there was only one thing there now: He wanted to see her.
Dumb luck or just a logical deduction of following after her landed him at a cabin. They had never been there before, John would have remembered. A private little retreat. John wished he could rent it off her sometime. Escaping all of Cat Creek's little problems in the isolated place was worth all the money he earned.
He didn't bother knocking, just tried the handle, pleased to see it was open and went on in. It was still inside, the same as it was outside. It wasn't silent, though. He could hear sounds coming from the cellar. The radio, probably. Personally, if he had a cabin like that, he wouldn't have chosen the cellar as the place to stay. In the natural light and warmth, he would be perfectly content. Mea had to have her reasons though, she always did.
Silently making his way downstairs, he thought of all the ways he could explain his being there. He didn't want to be thought of as another nosy neighbour who didn't mind his own business. The only thing he could think of to say was that he had punched Ray in the face and then decided to see her. Not a most comprehensive explanation, but John figured it would do.
Pulling open the door to the cellar a fraction, he was about to knock to let her know he was there when the noise suddenly became clear. A scream hid the sound of the door opening. His hand was frozen just a fraction away from the door as he saw a crying, bleeding girl and the back of the girl he knew too well. His mind and his eyes couldn't reconcile what he was seeing. That wasn't a knife in Mea's hands. It couldn't be... But it was.
John put a finger to his lips and the black haired girl pleaded with him with her eyes. She was still mumbling - begging - for Mea to let her go, but it was jilted by desperate sobs. This wasn't something John thought he would ever see. The sheer amount of blood coming out of the poor girl's body was... fascinating. He'd seen slaughterhouses and the way cows and sheep were so efficiently processed, and all the blood. This was different. This was watching how a person, how someone like him could be taken apart. It was so much more mystical than a recreation for a movie or show.
One slow, tentative step at a time, he crept towards her. His heart was racing, he could hear it thundering in his ears along with every too loud breath. He should have been afraid, ran back outside and called the cops instead of ventured closer, but he wasn't, he couldn't. Every movement of Mea's hand was like a stroke on a canvas or a sweep of a conductor's baton as she commanded the cries of the poor girl to join the cacophony of the echoing screams for mercy. It was wrong, there had to be no doubt in John's mind about that, but there was a beauty to it that was mesmerising.
Finally, just another two steps from standing like a shadow behind Mea, he held his breath. While he had been sure she had heard it before, he would leave no more chances. One moment to startle her and he could find himself on the end of the knife. How would that turn out? It would ruin Mea for sure. There was still time to fix everything. They could come up with a story, even if it meant convincing the Sheriff that the girl was crazy. Mea didn't have to pay for a slight slip, but if she killed him, there would be no hiding that.
Tiny steps. This was closer than he had been to her for so long. They had kept a distance between them after the break up, even though they had remained friends. He could smell her now, her hair still kept the same warm, earthy smell he remembered. It was now or never.
With the same unthinking speed with which he had punched Ray, he grabbed her hand. His hand fell over hers, gently for a fleeting moment before holding her in a vice-like grip, intertwining their hands around the bloodied knife.
"Stop," he whispered into her ear. He was so close - perhaps too close. There wasn't anything else he could do, though. If he wanted to save the girl, he needed to be able to physically stop Mea. She was too determined to let a few words get in her way. Hopefully, with just the hold on the knife, it would be enough to make her think twice before turning around and slashing the knife through him.
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ As the minutes ticked by, the girl's begging to stop intensified. It was really starting to get old and boring. Now was the time for her to talk about her final hours. Not to keep pleading Mea to do the impossible. At the rate of things, Mea would soon just kill her quickly to just shut the girl up. Who knew this girl could be such a whiner. "And what would you do if I should let you go?" Mea asked, planning on what organ to take out first. Ah yes, the kidneys. Those were pricey little things that could be sold for a huge sum of cash. It all depended on who needed what. The sky is the limit on these certain things. The girl, choking back her hot tears gave Mea a much expected answer. "I wouldn't tell anyone, I promise!" Of course she wouldn't.
"Oh yes, I already knew that," Mea gave the girl an award winning smile, taking a smaller knife in her hand she stenciled the area of the girl's kidney. One false move and the knife would slip right through, slicing the kidney deep and rendering it worthless. "But then my whole effort of obtaining you would be a waste of time." her smile never once faded.
Mea was never once so skillful, or crafty. If one where to call her that. Her first client was a very messy ordeal. She had picked him up from a truck stop, a little ways outside town. Apparently he was on a business trip from somewhere up north around New York. The girl never really paid attention to what city, but all she cared about is that no one really kept tabs on the man. A fresh new face to the business he was in. If anything, anyone would just assumed he flaked out and never bothered to tell anyone a thing. He told her of his problems and Mea listened. He was an interesting character. He had simple, normal problems just like anyone else. How was he going to pay the bills, keep sane for his job, etc.
Mea understood perfectly, but no one would understand the needs she had. The inner conflict she faced. Mea innocently invited him back to her place, seeing as his bus was soon leaving. He was unsure, but with a simple bat of her eyelashes and a genuine smile Mea had won him over.
As soon as the two made it through the front door of her house, their hands were on each other. Her father was asleep as always. If Mea were to take him to her special place, while he was awake, she were almost certain he would run out and immediately call the police. Mea had kept her place clean, organized. In that place at that time, Mea couldn't focus on her outside problems. She wanted to take in the moment, not burden it with her problems.
A good hour or so later the man was sleeping soundly. The girl with blood red hair sat on the end of her bed, feet hanging over. It was now or never. Taking in a deep breath she grabbed her clothes and placed them on. It was difficult moving the male to her room. She decided on carrying him then risking waking him up by starting the truck.
Her risk had came a reality once the sleeping man had started waking up. "..Huh? Mea..Mea where are we going?" he asked her, rubbing his eyes as he tried to recognize where they were. Damn it. Just less than half mile and they would have been there. He struggled out of Mea's arms, demanding her to tell him what was going on. She held her breath, not to sure on what to do. She had a man in his boxers just standing in the middle of her field. For all the planning she had in her head, Mea never once thought of what to do if this were to happen. She didn't say anything, trying to figure out what her next course of action should be.
"Well, alright then..I'm going back to bed," the man shook his head and walked away from her back to her house. As soon as his back was turned to her, she grabbed a sizable rock from the ground and smashed it over his head. He fell to his knees, in pure shock. "What the fuc- -" Smash another hit over his head had sent him out cold. "s**t," Mea breathed, her heart going ninety to nothing. If he had caught on what really was happening.. She didn't want to think of the thought.
Now with him really out cold, she simply just grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the cellar. Mea was so glad that it was the dead of night. Though, no one really visited her out at the Ranch or went down the small country roads that wrapped all the way around her property. Even if they were, it wasn't like them to stop and pester her. Everyone knew she was hard at work, she had no time to talk.
Arriving to her cellar, she sighed out of relief. Thank god this would all be over soon. She could finally get this over with. Lugging the man inside, she soon set him up in the leather straps. Only these weren't as new as the ones she were currently using. They were old, worn out bridle straps she used when riding her horses. Some where ripping, others were holding. She had some tools lined up on a small work bench in the back, not quite sure as where to begin.
Maybe she should start simple? Or just end this quickly. As she went to grab her choice the leather straps gave loose, dropping the man to the ground. "W-What the hell?!" his voice both loud and angry. He grabbed Mea's leg, dragging her to the floor. Her hand grabbed the tool closest to her, which had been a rather dull hunting knife. He then tried to run off, but Mea grabbed his foot, making him fall over. He was on his back, his head had slammed hard against the ground. He tried moving, getting up but he was soon met with Mea's knife lodging right into his heart. Mea let go of the knife, moving far back from the man as she stared astonished. Blood was spewing from where the knife was; from his mouth as he gasped for air. A small, involuntary sigh came from her lips as her eyes watched him die. She managed to do it. She managed to kill someone.
Her mind took her out of the past and into the present, she went to make the cut for the kidneys but a hand was soon over hers. Mea tensed up, a single, stern command had met her ears. "Stop," John had whispered in her ear. The screams from the girl were now louder as Mea held her breath. She could feel John's breath on her neck. How exactly did he find her? Did he stalk her to this place? Was Mea really not paying this much attention? She froze in place, her eyes going over her shoulder meeting John's gaze. He looked surprised, as any well rounded person should be. There was no mistaking it though. He looked, in all honesty impressed, too.
"John," her voice gasped. Mea was hard to hear with the girl screaming and what not. Her eyes held it all. All the questions she had. She really didn't want to kill him. If keeping her safe and out from behind jail doors she would have to. She wanted her father to die with a peace of mind. That his daughter was really going to be okay. Not that she was some ruthless, blood thirsty killer who harvested body parts for his health. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- The moment she uttered his name, he felt a pang of guilt. If he hadn't intruded they could have gone on keeping their secrets. This wasn't a scenario he was used to talking people out of, and he didn't want to know what the consequences of his actions would be. It was all much too late to be backing out now. He'd played by his standard good samaritan rationality instead of backing out and now he would have to play the rest by ear.
Ignoring the screams, he focused on the only thing he really cared about in the room. "Why would you do this?" His eyes pleaded with her for a sensible explanation. Her hazel gaze had always hidden something, but it couldn't have been this. He wanted to hear straight from her why, and he wanted to hear that this wasn't why she had left him.
"Mister, please! You gotta get me outta here! Please, Mister! She's crazy --!"
Her babbling stopped. John held the knife to her throat, a primal hatred for her senseless whimpers. Didn't she see that he had bigger things to worry about than her childish complaining? This wasn't about her. He had come to help Mea and he would. If the girl's survival didn't factor into those plans, John was pretty sure he could live with that. The girl was nothing but a nuisance that could ruin Mea's life. He wouldn't allow that, and they weren't going anywhere until they had agreed to a plan.
"I'll get to you," he said, the tension clear in his voice. It struck him how it must have looked to her: the only other person who knew where she was, her only saviour, was guiding the hand of the woman who would have otherwise killed her without interference. The knife's edge danced around her throat as he struggle to keep it still.
He had to stop this. This wasn't him. He wasn't going to kill someone... and he'd added a jolted, harsh stroke to Mea's fine canvas. Gradually he pulled away the knife. It would be safer nearer him. She would have to think twice about whatever she did if she was risking hurting either herself or him, at least, he hoped she would have that reservation.
"Mea – Red – don't do this. You're just angry because of Ray." That was a lie. There was no way she would have all those things prepared, have such care with her patient - it didn't occur to him to call the dark haired girl anything but that - if she hadn't had done it a dozen times before. John needed to find an explanation for what he was seeing, for the girl he thought he knew. "We can walk away from this."
He eased his grip on her hand. Despite facing down a girl with a knife who clearly knew how to use it, he trusted her. They had known each other for so long, he believed that she wouldn't use it on him, she just needed to know that he trusted her. With that single action, he hoped it would be enough to convince her he was on her side. "Just put down the knife."
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ The current situation Mea was in made her head spin. Obviously she wasn't being careful enough, but then again John was the smartest man Mea had ever known. The whole reason she had left him, was so he wouldn't catch her in this moment. A knife in her hand, a stranger strung up in leather bindings. And blood, everywhere. Why couldn't he had just left her alone? Her jaw clenched at her predicament. Though as he asked her why she would do this, the girl pleaded again to be let down. Mea's eyes slightly widened as John had guided her hand over to the girl's neck. One slice. One quick, effortless slice and the girl would have been dead. John then backed away, trying to make reason or sense of what was going on. But Mea knew better. The other side of her saw that part of him he had just briefly exposed. He was almost forceful with Mea's stranger. The knife that danced so dangerously to ending the girl's life.
When John stepped away from her, she turned around, facing him. Her eyes locking with his. There it was. She could see it, his inner conflict. She could only guess what he was thinking. Probably something along the lines of 'What is going on,' and 'What is wrong with her.'
Mea shook her head, laughing slightly. First Ray, now John finding out about her secret. What a shitty day this has turned out to be. An eyebrow arched as she gazed at him. He thought she was doing this because she was upset with Ray? That was an almost laughable matter; but he was partially correct. If she hadn't done this, she would have probably killed Ray, dispose of his body and get cleaned up before Andrew had come back from town.
She had to vent her anger somehow, and killing a Police Officer wasn't a way. She needed to stay smart, and hone her craft on the least favorable people in society. Knowing this, it almost angered her in a way that she couldn't kill John. He was easily, hands down the Town's favorite person.
He wanted to know why? There was only a good reason why. The other was just for her insatiable hunger to end someone's life. "Alright John," her voice said sharply, walking to the other side of the girl. She leaned forward to the girl she had strung up and began making her cut, the girl had just hung there, she had no will to yell anymore. Her screams and attempt of having someone help her just wasn't working. No one was there. Except John, and Mea wasn't about to let him leave.
Delicately cutting around the kidney, she momentarily stopped, looking up at John. "You know just as well as I do about Pa..Dad's situation," she breathed calmly, the blood started building up around her incision. The other half of her storm cellar had a rather large meat locker Mea had personally installed. It was ran by a generator that she daily went and filled. No one really questioned why she bought so much gas at the Station. Always reminding them that she had plenty of equipment out on the ranch that ran on gas. Then again it wasn't their business..but Mea had to play it safe.
Walking away from the girl and toward the door that lead to the meat locker, she checked to make sure it was still chilled inside. The locker was just big enough to be a walk in closet. The shelves were empty minus the special containers that held organs such for hearts and other things. Mea had sold her last item off a few weeks ago. Grabbing one of the containers she she walked back and placed the small box on her little cart. Gently.. Carefully her hands removed the kidney from the girl, lifting it up, looking it over.
Out of the corner of her eyes she watched how John stood there motionless. She could feel it. The aura around him was genuinely intrigued with what she was doing, even though he didn't want to admit it. She knew he had shared some of the same darkness she had possessed. If he truly wanted to help this girl, then he would have by now. Placing the organ into the small container she sealed it shut, placing it into the freezer.
She then stood there, her hands covered in the same dark red blood that was on the floor. "This is the only way I can pay for his treatments and medicine," her eyes once again bored into his. "You honestly think this is because of Ray?" she inquired almost sounding insulted.
"We can walk away from this..Just put down the knife," his voice gently tried to reach out to Mea. They couldn't walk away from this. There was no way. John was the only person to truly see her real side. The real monster that lurked behind the mask of an innocent, sweet girl. She had been reborn in blood, this was her life now. There was no alternative.
She could see he wanted her to trust him. Mea was struggling with herself to allow such a feat. This had gone against everything she wanted. She would have much preferred if no one knew her dangerous side. "That's the thing, John, is that we can't just walk away from this," Mea's eyes were still held intently on his. If he wanted her to trust him, then he would have to prove to her that she could. The girl was still barely awake, her pleading were reduced to simple groans every now and then.
The risk in this was tremendous, but as John trusted her, Mea was, hesitantly willing to do the same. Walking over to him, her eyes never lost a tinge of the serious, and importance this moment held. If he did what she would ask, he, too would be reborn in blood. Stopping in front of him, her face just inches away from his. She had almost forgotten the brilliant color his eyes held. One of her favorites, a light grey. He easily had more than a few inches on her. Her breathing normal, the request she whispered was faint, but there. "Kill her then, John," her bloody hands rose to his face. Her finger tips had just barely touched his skin, leaving the blood from her fingertips where she had touched him.
There were no more words to be said. The stillness of the silence between them held the stress of the situation that was there. Mea had enough tools in there for him to use anything to get the job done. Walking away from him she went to the door that lead into the room. Exiting, she looked over her shoulder, taking John in one last time. He stood there speechless. Mea closed the door behind her, locking it. She, again, thought this through after one of hers had tried to run away. That, in itself was another messy occurrence..but it made Mea wiser. The lock she had installed on the door made it to where it could also be locked from the outside.
Walking up the stairs to the second door that lead outside, a small frown had appeared on her face. She doubt John had what it took to kill the girl, but she could see that with just a simple push she, could perhaps bring forward what he tried to hide. That itself was a long stretch. Before reaching the door she turned, sitting down on the cool, hard concrete step. Time would tell what happened, but if John couldn't do this, she felt, that there was no way she could let him walk away with all that he had seen. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- Mea's display made his stomach turn. To John, it was all the actions of a desperate girl. She had found herself in a point in life that John did not think he could imagine and then she had done something stupid and now she couldn't think of a way to get out. He wanted nothing more than to plead with her to reconsider. Collecting organs was not going to help her father. It was too risky, she would get caught eventually. Hell, he had caught her.
There was no use denying that there was some primordial curiosity that gripped him as she displayed her work, but he fought against it. That was all Mea had to do: fight against it. He had always thought she would be the perfect example of someone who could put aside all those things, but, no, she could just hide it. He couldn't find the words to tell her that, though.
When she came so close to him, he thought he would be able to hold her, to shake some sense into her, but she commanded the room. Those hard eyes made him feel so very small. He wished her silly smile would flash through and for everyone to jump out of nowhere and tell him it was a silly joke. Any second now... But he would be waiting for a very long time. As she evenly gave him the command and walked away, he felt like there was no other possibility than for this to be a nightmare.
He touched the mark she had left on her cheek, unable to accept how that one gesture had tried to prove to him that this was all real. The patient shared a horrified look with him as they processed what she had said. The ultimatum had come to him taking Mea's place? Mea had precision and elegance. At least she could make sure that it wasn't as painful. She would know where to cut. What did John know?
"Red!" She was gone. The door was closed behind her. John couldn’t kill the girl. There was nothing she could have done that would mean she deserved to die. He would have done anything for Mea so that she could get away without so much as a slap on the wrist, but she hadn’t left him that option. She hadn’t left him with an option at all.
There had to be something he could do. It hurt thinking what would happen betraying Mea, but she had brought this on herself. John wasn't going to kill someone because she had told him to. Mea may have lost it, but he hadn't. Killing was immoral, not just wrong. Violence was not an option John had ever been allowed to accept, let alone killing. If she just hadn't backed him into a corner, he could have helped her. If it was just about the money, he could have helped out. His father would have happily set up a charity to ease the strain.
If John was going to have to make the hard choices, than no one was going to die. They were going to talk everything out and get the girl to a hospital.
Empty-handed, he came up to the girl. There was a mutual appreciation for what was happening. She didn't seem nearly as scared as she had been before. John wished he could have just switched off, but not with the girl there. That one look meant that she had put all their chances of getting out alive on him, and that was a bigger burden than he had ever had to carry before.
Trying to push away the hope he had given her, he started undoing the straps around her arm.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! We’ll get back at that b***h."
With the strap still in his hand but her arm free, he stopped and looked at her face to make sure he had heard right. There was no possible way he had heard that. The surreal day wasn't going to end with those words. "What?"
For a girl who was still far away from getting out of danger, she was cocky. Even weakened as she was, she managed to pull off a smirk. The arrogance suddenly exuded from her, just because she thought he could come up with a plan to save her. "She’ll regret ever messing with me."
John snapped. He yanked the strap around her throat. Her eyes bulged as he pulled it tighter and tighter. She gasped for breath like a fish out of water, he free hand punching him to no effect.
"You won’t do a ******** thing to her. If you get out, you will never tell anyone about this. This will just be your own little ******** nightmare. Okay?" She was still hitting him, so he pulled it tighter. If he was going to let her out, she was going to comply. She was not going to give him s**t over anything. Whether she lived or died was entirely his call - Mea had made that obvious. It was about time she started to appreciate it.
The hits became softer until they stopped. Her body hung limp in the restraints. His eyes continued to bore into hers, waiting for a response. Now that she was calm he expected one. Just because she wasn’t saying anything didn’t mean she was agreeing with him. Ray had taught him the hard way that silence did not mean that there was nothing to say. There was always something to say, and John was going to hear it from her lips… her… blue lips.
He stumbled back. Shock took over, unable to believe what he had done. If he backed far enough away, maybe she’d be fine. It took longer than that. He hadn’t held her that long, definitely hadn’t pulled the leather too hard. All he had wanted to do was get her to co-operate. He hadn’t meant for her to get hurt. It was just an accident. Nothing was making sense. She’d just made him so angry. She was going to hurt Mea, and he couldn’t let her. Not Mea.
When the wall was at his back his crumpled to the floor. Those glazed, dead eyes hadn’t stopped staring at him. They were too large for her head. It wasn’t right. Her tongue stuck out part way from her frozen mouth, bloated already, framed in those off coloured lips. This had all gone so wrong. This wasn’t what he had wanted to happen.
"You weren’t supposed to be here," he stuttered to the lifeless girl. "You weren’t supposed to be here!” It was just meant to be him and Mea. They were meant to talk things over, she was meant to calm him down, tell him he was being too sensitive and cool his head. No one was supposed to be dead. No one was supposed to be dead because he’d snapped for the first time in so long. There was no hiding from it now, though. The evidence was staring at him, even though just looking at her, with the strap having slipped off her neck, it was impossible to see how she had died.
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ Silence. There was nothing but silence as Mea watched keenly on the door in front of her. She wondered what sort of method John would use to kill the girl; but Mea knew all to well that things never went smoothly the first time. The blood on her hands started to dry; she thought of all possible scenarios that were going on in there. More than likely, John was struggling with himself to make a decision. The first kill was always the hardest.
It was a struggle. Knowing what you were doing was completely and utterly wrong; but her dark needs and wants never left her alone. In the cold face of reality, everyone she came into contact with, she was already plotting ways of getting them into that room of hers. Except her friends and family, she gave them that much respect. A smile tugged at her face. How amusing it would have been if Ray actually knew what she did. The newspaper line is what would have been the most amusing to her. Ex-girlfriend of the Sheriff's Deputy was actually a serial killer!
She couldn't allow herself to be caught, though. It was only by luck that John had seen her coming out here. No one ever went this way, minus Ray, Andrew and John. Speaking of Andrew, he was due back any moment now. Thinking it'd be rude to stage up the ever so helpful Andrew, she decided on coming back to check on John when he left for the night.
Ever so carefully she left the cellar, making sure she left no blood anywhere. Walking back to her truck, she went to the bed of it and grabbed a rag out of the back. Wiping herself off clean of any blood, she grabbed a lighter and lit the rag on fire. Mea grabbed a bucket she had in the truck bed, putting the rag inside of it. It wouldn't get hot enough to melt the plastic. The rag was such a small thing, it would burn up in minutes. After the rag had been burnt and the ash was disposed of, Mea climbed into her truck and drove back to her barn. Hopefully Andrew wasn't there already waiting on her.
Climbing in an out of her truck to let herself in and out of back pastures, she made it back to the barn. Her eyes looked around for Ray but he was no where in sight. That was all she needed, was for the Deputy to be on hands and knees begging for her to forgive him. Pitiful thing begging was. It about made her sick. Pulling her truck back in front of her house she slipped out, dusting herself off. Walking back to her barn, she heard the signature loud engine of Andrew's truck pulling down the driveway. She met him with a wave as he got out of his truck.
"Ah' was beginin' to get worried about ya'," she said with a smile, helping him unload the paint from the back and lugging it to the barn. He informed her that he paid Miss Annabelle a visit before coming back. Ah, did he now? The emotions inside her twitched, but she kept a friendly face; one that she always wore. "And how is Miss Annie doin'?" she elbowed Andrew playfully.
"Lemme guess you fox, you put down the moves on ere', yeah?" the Soldier laughed at her and shook his head. Apparently they were just catching up, and she had to go to work. And that he was going to visit her after he was done here. "Well say hi to her fer me, okay?" she asked him, her goofy smile never once leaving her face.
He then asked her where Ray went. If this was any normal day, or if Mea didn't have a situation on her hands, she would have told him about Ray. She simply made an excuse that he got called in for work and left. Her father was up and about so she had talked to him; so in the end, none of the sanding got done.
The one good thing about Andrew is that he understood her, at least this aspect of her. He would have been perfect for her, if she were normal. If she didn't have such an evilness inside of her that was biding and waiting to be let out. Hours passed as the two were sanding and just cutting up in general. Andrew had almost fallen through the roof of the barn. The shabby old plywood needed to be replaced soon. The sun on their backs and sweat dripping down their faces, Mea decided to call it a day.
Usually she offered to cook for Andrew, and he more than willingly took it, but she skipped on it today. No sense of making a good dinner if he were going to go get wasted with Annabelle. Just the name of that girl set her teeth on her edge at the moment. "Ah'll see ya' tomorrow!" Mea called after him waving as he drove away from her and down the road.
Now that that was over with she needed to go see if her request had fallen through. First though she had to go check up on her Pa. Going inside the Ranch house she stumbled by an Angie relaxing on the couch. As usual the two girls never said anything to each other. Just the usual hello and how are you. Giving her father the usual dosage of medicine and fluffing up his pillows, she kissed his forehead as he continued to sleep.
"Hey Angie, a cow got out so ah'm gonna go get it, feel free to order pizza or somethin'. Or if yer up fer waitin', ah can come cook some dinner when I get back," Angie gave her a nod and a thumbs up. She loved Mea's cooking as much as everyone else did, but she'd save Mea the trouble and order some pizza.
"Ya sure?"
Angie nodded and waved her out the door. Mea gave her a thankful smile before leaving the house and going to retrieve the 'cow'.
As soon as she was out of sight of the Ranch house, she felt herself more eager than ever to see if John had done what she asked. The sun was then moving behind the horizon, Mea eyes narrowed as she neared the cellar. She stopped briefly, looking around to see if anyone had been following her. Of course no one was, but now that John had caught her, she had to be extra careful.
The trees that loomed in front of her cellar shone, the rays of the sun basking them with a warm glow. No one would have guessed what these trees hid. Inside of the cellar now, her hands grabbed the lock and gently unlocked the door. Two things would, or rather three, were going to happen. Either John had killed the girl and was waiting to be released. John released the girl and they both were going to try and kill Mea. Or last, John was going to kill Mea for making him kill the girl. Either way, Mea should have brought something with her to protect herself with.
Gently and anxiously opening the door, her eyes met the once live, screaming girl hanging limp from the restraints. No cuts, no absolute marks were made to courting her death. The only ones were, of course from Mea. The girl's eyes were huge, their dead gaze holding nothing in particular. Her lips were a dead blue, tongue hanging out and everything. John had managed to do it. He actually managed to kill someone.
From the looks of it, he had started to let her down, but something triggered him into..strangling her? He strangled her to death? Mea knew he had something in him, but she never knew he would have so much anger to do this choice of method. If anything, to say in the least Mea was..impressed. He managed to make not a mess, while Mea's first kill was bloodier than ever.
Her eyes left the girl and met John's defeated self against the back wall. His eyes just staring at the girl. Mea knew that gaze. 'What did I do? What have I done?' Her eyes met his gaze back at the body as she soon unstrapped the girl, lying her in the pool of blood below her. It was time to dispose of the body. Mea didn't and wasn't sure if she should do that in front of John. However she didn't really see much of a difference if she did or didn't.
"Stare at her all you want John, she isn't coming back," Mea finally said aloud, looking over at John who was still huddled in a corner. "You want to deny what I am doing. Believe that all this was some ******** up nightmare. That's fine. I would have preferred it that way," she told him as she went over to her workbench and grabbed a hacksaw. Glancing over the sharp tool, she went over to the body. She would cut it up into portions, then burn it. It was easier to burn that way.
She never did explain to John why the two had broken up. She had given him very hazy reasons. Blaming the reason on her mother dying, and her father needing help. There was no time in a relationship because of that. "You know..this was exactly the reason why I broke up with you," her voice whispered as she crouched down near the body, careful she wouldn't get any blood on herself. It didn't really matter anyway. Mea was going to burn her clothes with the body. It never once hurt to be to careful.
"I didn't want you to see me like this," her voice still whispering as her stomach knotted up. She still had feelings for Mr. Custer. He was a lot better to her than Ray ever was. "I wanted to protect you from all of this, but now," she trailed off, unable to face the harsh reality in her actions for forcing this upon him. She knew there was a consequence for her actions. Anyone exposed to this wasn't able to be left alive. Mea knew that, and she was unsure if John now knew that, or if he was still trying to accept the facts that all of this was real. Maybe John could help her with this, but Mea highly doubted it.
True he had enough in him to kill this girl, but she didn't know if he could keep killing. Or if he could hide away what he had done from everyone like she could. Mea could teach him if he were willing; but how could anyone be willing to do what she did?
Mea was, for once uncertain what to do. Her room was her escape from the world and now her problems and stress had plagued it. She wouldn't come back here for awhile. Mea held her breath as her hazel eyed gaze left the body in front of her and back to John. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- The world was breaking. John's reality had fragmented from the moment he had seen Mea and he didn't think he could put it back together. Time lost all meaning as he stared dumbfounded at the body of the girl. No matter how he tried to find a way to shift the blame off himself, there was no use as those blank eyes bored into him. The evidence was staring him in the face. He had killed a woman in a fit of anger and that wasn't going to go away.
The hours felt like they went on for days, but he didn't move - he couldn't move. He had sworn himself off religion, but he had never found himself praying so hard in his life. This was what his parents had been protecting him from. They had given him a vengeful god to believe in, because they must have known that he needed something more to fear than just them. All this they must have seen coming, trying to turn him away from it, box away all the anger so that he would never hurt anyone. How could John have known that, though? He never would have let himself get angry if they had just told him.
Whispered prayer after prayer was the only thing that disturbed the room. His throat was sore and his voice was fading, but he kept it up. He didn't want to think about what was happening in front of him or the smell that was slowly filling the room. Her blood was already starting to sink down to her feet, her toes becoming blue and purple, and her face was becoming so pale. And that was all because of him.
John almost cried out when he heard the door open. It was going to be Hell welcoming him. When he saw the blood red hair out of the corner of his eye, it was even worse. At least Hell would have given him condemnation, but not Mea. Mea was proof that it was still going to continue, and she would give him absolution for something he knew he didn't deserve absolution for. She was the temptress, the devil he was supposed to overcome, and he had failed.
Her voice finally allowed him to tear his eyes away from the corpse. She was right: there was no bringing the girl back, and that stung him more than she could ever know. The Devil didn't lie, but he wished she did. He wanted her to tell him that he could bring her back because at least then he could spit in her face and tell her she was lying. As long as she told the truth, she was just proving that she had taken control over him.
As though it would somehow make anything better, he buried his face in his arms and tried to pick up the prayers again. They would block out her voice. He needed something to block out her voice. That bittersweet voice that had tempted him was now so grinding. Every word she said was pulling at whatever evil she had found that would kill an innocent girl. The cascade and rhythm of her voice was bringing back that anger and he needed to fight it.
The Devil's eyes were still on him as she muttered those final words: "I would have preferred it that way."
The praying stopped. Was that all it came down to; that he had inconvenienced her? His having killed her patient for her had boiled down to nothing more that an inconvenience that she would have preferred to pretend didn’t happen. She didn’t care about him just her stupid project.
This time there was no shaking. The trembling need to to vent had been sated three times already. It no longer needed to fight with him to be released. Like a beast that had been sitting inside him for years that had finally be released, it was going to enjoy its freedom with all the pomp and confidence that it had earned by being held in captivity for so long.
Mea went about her business as he slowly got back to his feet. Despite sitting there for so long, his legs hadn’t numbed. They held his weight as he watched her return to the body, hacksaw in hand. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach knowing what she was going to do. He wouldn’t let her if she tried. This was one person he would save from her barbaric ritual.
The moral, sensible side of John tried to tell him to accept her veiled apology for bringing their relationship to an end, to apologise for what she had made him do, but the sensible side had was a lot softer voice in his head than the one that wanted to hit her, throttle her until every part of her that he could recognise was an unrecognisable mess.
By the time she looked back at him, he was already stranding over her, the cold, dead expression she had given him thrown back at her. As he may have done so many years ago, he put his hand into her hair. It was soft and beautiful. He had loved her once, he thought, he had had to, that was why she was the temptress. Perhaps he loved her still, but it wasn’t the same love. Today was enough to show him that the gentle, giggly girl that his teenage self had followed around like a lapdog was nothing but a joke constructed by this She-Devil.
A violent jerk and he pulled her head back up to face him. She had played him and now she would learn that she had to pay the price for it. His hand, embedded in her hair, tangled in it and it in his hand, gave him control. The sight of her face disgusted and excited him in a way he didn’t understand. It wouldn’t stop him now, though. Even if she begged, his mind was made up.
He kneeled down next to her, the blood soaking through his pants. “Protect me?” It was his turn to feel insulted.
He slammed her face into the bloodied ground. She would resist, he knew. Like with the other girl, though, he would not back down. Digging one knee into her back, pressing his elbow into her arm, so that she didn’t get any funny ideas about using the saw on him, he decided it was her turn to feel helpless.
Smothering her face into the blood, he struggle to keep from shouting. "This - this is your work. You did this, and you can have it, but I killed her. She is mine, and you have no right to touch her. If you do one thing to her, I'll kill you." Bringing his face close to hers so that his lips brushed her ear, he said words he never thought he would; "But you will beg me to kill you before I’m done." He meant it with every fibre of his being. Mea had made him do this, and released something she couldn’t imagine. It was up to her to see if she could control it.
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ For a split second in time in this room, Mea did feel helpless. The forceful way he slammed her down, putting his weight into the knee that was keeping her arm grounded from slicing at him. How he held her down in the blood of her most recent client. But the way he went about this, the way he told her what he was going to do to her set her teeth on edge. There was only one such time in Mea's life before this, before she was what she was now that she felt, and was truly helpless. She was damned if she was going to go back to that now.
He was right. This was her work. And she would keep it. When he threatened her if she touched his dead body, that was the final straw. Him telling her what to do. In her own private corner of the world. ******** that. When he leaned down to whisper in her ear, she put all the strength in the side of her body with the least amount of weight. Jerking her shoulder up that he hadn't wedged his knee into, she knocked him off her. The hacksaw still in hand, she threw it from herself. It would be more harmful to her in this situation then good. It clanged harmlessly against the wall.
"Would I?" her voice challenged his threat dangerously. She could see it as plain as day now. The monster he had tried to keep at bay. Everyone in town speculated that he wouldn't, nor couldn't hurt a fly. If only they could see him now. His cold, dead eyes staring deep into hers from a distance. A dangerous grin flashed on her face as she narrowed her eyes slightly at him. People really underestimated Mea, which in itself was a bad idea. The tension between the two was high strung, both eagerly waiting for the first move.
Mea moved fast, crashing into him as it was her turn to knock him around. Sure she had mentally ******** with his head, but now, now was different. As his back hit hard against the workbench behind him, the tools clanging together at such impact Mea held him there. Her body trembled with such anger and, excitement. She was actually enjoying this. She enjoyed the thought of someone actually thinking they were going to harm her and she was going to be the one begging them to stop.
She grabbed him again, throwing him to the floor where he previously had held her against the ground. As his back hit the ground she descended upon him, straddling his chest. Their eyes never once left each other as she forcefully leaned forward and held him there. "I will be the one begging, huh?" she taunted him as she let one of her hands move from his shoulder and grabbed the cart a few feet away from them. Grabbing the exacto knife that laid undisturbed on there she grabbed his shirt, slicing it to expose his chest. Mea placed a hand over where his heart was, feeling the heart beat rhythmically against his chest.
This was way different. Far different than any experience she had ever had shared with anyone. Mea could remember, though it was really faint. All of those years ago that she was with him. He really was a sweet guy. Always there for her, the two were practically joined at the hip. He was there for her when her mother had passed away, even though she was, at that time with Ray. Then when her father had fallen ill, he was there. Her little shadow. And here he was now, finally getting to see who she was after all of these years. The real Mea Dixon, not the restrained, masked version.
And now, she could see him. The bitterness and anger that he was disciplined to lock away had turned into something so much worse. Something no one could control, or understand but her. John tried to thrown her off, but was met to a the knife to his neck. A look in Mea's eyes that said 'Try me'. "Look at yourself John," her voice purred, the blood that John had smeared her in added to how she was feeling.
It was true. When John had caught her red handed with what she was doing, he was an inconvenience to her. Though now. Now she was enjoying herself again. "Trying to hide yourself away from everyone. Coming off as the poster-board role model to the Town," the way she talked was a hushed sound, as if she were purposely being quiet so he'd listen. "But I see you," the Devil moved the knife from his neck and trailed it down toward his chest. She could do it now. End his life and be over with this whole ordeal. But she wanted to see where this would go, besides. She was in control. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- Pinned down, John thought Mea wouldn't try to fight. That had been another potentially fatal mistake. It had all been simple to her. She calculated every movement with the same precision she had when slicing into the dark haired girl. John, on the other hand, was exhausted from fighting, from hating, from trying to find a way to stay alive. If John wanted to stop Mea turning him into another patient, he had to calm down and think. If he let the bloodthirsty rage go, though, he knew that there was even less chance he would get out. The only reason why she hadn't killed him so far was because she had coaxed out his fury and was revelling in it. Should that go away, he didn't think she would be so reluctant to cut him or that he would have the willpower to hit her.
Mea's control of the knife captivated him like a snake charmer, and for a moment he would have probably let her cut him open without the slightest struggle. If she hadn't stopped, she could have had her easiest kill. The charm was broken the moment her warm hand touched his chilled, exposed chest. His first desperate attempts to get her off him were rewarded with the threat of exposing his jugular. For the first time in the little cabin, he felt scared. He was going to die in there. The knife wasn't going to let him escape. In a flash, he suddenly realised how much he wanted to do if he ever got out.
The purring cut through his disjointed thoughts. Her words cut John deeper than she could ever know. The unbridled anger that had reached the end of its fuse was once again ignited. He was ready to accept the dare in her eyes, prepared for the consequences on the billion to one chance that he could get out. Whatever happened, he could not let the Devil have the satisfaction of gloating over what she had done to him.
"Dirty c**t!" He threw a punch with his free hand. She was quick, but not quick enough. She barely managed to bring the knife up to defend herself before he struck the side of her head. The knife dropped, hitting his forehead and clattering to the floor. Now dazed, he pushed her off him and clambered to his feet, pushing away the cart. That would be the end of their fighting. He couldn't deal with anymore. Either Mea would try one final takedown and win, or he was getting out of there without another physical confrontation.
Staying just out of arms reach, he chose the only other exit that the haze of hatred would allow him. She had made him her bloodied partner, but he would not give her that satisfaction of knowing that she had broken him. "Would you like me to thank you for this? Thank you. Thanks for proving to me that I can put these lowlife [********] out of their misery and that I will never do it again. Now you're a smart girl, Red. There's no way you'll get away with killing me. You could hide it when there were these bimbos you picked up, but not me. My dad would bring in every person in the country to find me, and they'd get here eventually and then you could forget about ever seeing your dad or Cat Creek again.
"I could kill you, though, but I'd have to call in those bullshit cops, and they'd know that there was no way that little Mea Dixon could have killed that whore, not like that. They'd give me a few years, but then I could get out and go on living. I could live with that, but I don't think you could live breaking daddy's heart.
"So, you see, Red," he said as he backed away, "you're going to let me walk. I'll take her with me and then this is over." He kept Mea where he could see her as he picked up the girl he had killed. It must have been hours since she had died. Deadweight had never meant anything to John until now. When she had been alive, she hadn't looked so heavy, but now she was a struggle to pick up.
With the girl uncomfortably held in in his arms, her feet still dragging on the floor, he made his slow retreat. His head turned back to see where he was going, it would be Mea's perfect time to strike, but he knew she wouldn't because he wouldn't have. It irked him that he thought he could already understand how she felt - how a cold blooded killer could think - but perhaps it was a gift. There needed to be a way to turn a curse into a blessing, and if that was only escaping her little lair, he would bear it. Once he was out of there, he would finish clean up his business and then he would watch Cat Creek and the temptress disappear in his rearview mirror.
As he almost made it to the door, he felt the need to once again justify his threat."If you're lucky, we won't ever see each other again, because if we do, I can promise you" - for what he said would be the final time, he stared into Mea's bloodied face - "you will be begging me." And one step at a time, he walked away from her life.
Outside in the dark, John struggled with the body. Tree roots would catch onto hers toes if they didn't trip him first. She would start to slip out of his grip as he had just managed to get to a decent pace. It was an inconvenience, but he needed to finish it. This was his mess and he couldn't leave her to the butcher to dismember her and do god knows what else. At least this way she could get a proper burial, that much was set in John's mind.
By the time he had gotten her to the car and lifted her into the tray he was exhausted. Mea had destroyed everything he believed in and what he stood for. Getting into the driver's seat, he just sat there and thought about everything that had happened since he had spoken to Angie. It had been like an avalanche, growing and growing until it had torn through his entire life. All that it had taken was a few little lines on a page and a few hours. He wasn't sure whether he even had it in him to drive away anymore. As sure as he had been in the cellar, he couldn't feel the same confidence that everything would be alright. He should have turned himself in.
He rested his head on the top of the steering wheel, hoping that he would wake up from the nightmare. The loose canon John would just be thanks to an overactive imagination and a few too many movies. His life would never have been in danger or in pieces. God would forgive him for even having dreamt about what happened, and he would be an even better man than he had been before.
The moping stopped. John shot up like someone had flicked a switch. It didn't need to be a nightmare for him to have to become a better man. He would live with the nightmare and build back his life. If God hadn't wanted him to get out, he wouldn't be there. He had some kind of purpose and he would find out what it was. If all it was, was to atone for his crime of killing the girl, he would pay it, but if he didn't get caught, he would find out why God had let him do such a horrible thing. There had to be a reason why it had all happened - a greater plan. He was no one to question it or fight it. This was what God had given him and he would follow his path wherever it would take him.
The first thought had been to go out of town and bury the body, but he wanted to the next time he took the road out of town to be the last time he drove down it. Under the cover of darkness, he felt like he had a chance to hide the body, and the blood. People wouldn't be hounding him at every corner, they probably wouldn't even be outside to see him Everything would work out the way it was meant to, and it would happen after he said a proper farewell.
Mrs Harris' noisy boxer greeted him as usual as he came home. Finally he had an explanation for why it hated him; animals were meant to be able to tell if people were bad, and it had gotten him a mile away. With the scent of death in his truck, it wouldn't stop barking. Even when John had gone into his cluttered apartment, it still yanked on its chain and let loose at the offending, evil smell. Mrs Harris would sort it out, he was sure. If he had stayed, he knew he had the strength to put it down and it would never bark again, but it wasn't his problem anymore.
The barking continued as he washed himself of the blood and dirt. Mea had revolted him, her face covered in reds and browns, but he supposed he hadn't looked that much better. For minutes he stood in the steaming water and red tinted water continued to swirl around his feet. While trying to clean out the blood from his hair, he had found that Mea had left him a permanent reminder of what he had done. The knife had not bounced harmlessly away as he had expected, but left an inch long gash above his left eye. The world had to see that he had sinned; that was the way God had willed it.
When the water finally stayed clear, he knew he could no longer postpone fate. In a frenzy, he got dressed and packed only a few changes of clothes into a small bag. At the top, folded neatly in a plastic bag, he placed the cut, ripped and bloodstained clothes he had been wearing that day. As sensible as it would seem for anyone else in his position to get rid of them, he didn't. When he was ready, he would destroy that piece of evidence, and that time wasn't now.
Taking nothing but the bag, he left his home for the last time. It was a big mess he was leaving Mrs Harris to clean, and he was sorry for it, but it wasn't anything she couldn't deal with in a couple of hours with a few garbage bags. There would undoubtably be someone else in town who would take his place, even if the garage was missing half the tools. John wasn't going to stay around to give all the tools back, they were his now.
His landlady was outside in her nightgown when he went back to his car. The dog wasn't having any of it as she tried to calm him down. She gave him an apologetic smile and tried to say sorry for her rotten, vile creature, but John waved her excuses away. The dog knew best. With John so much closer, it went crazy, made even worse when John took his time cleaning the blood from his chair. Even when John was finally done and had started driving away, he could still hear it barking.
His parents would have been asleep for a couple of hours, but when he rang the doorbell, his father answered in a second. Even as a young boy, he John remembered the people of the town coming at any hour of day to try and resolve their problems, his father always willing to help. He didn't think he could describe the look on the preacher's face as he saw his son standing there, bruised and scarred. If he had wanted to stay the night, he still had the key to get in, and it was no time of day for a regular visit. The old man expected the worst, inviting him in, but John insisted they kept it outside.
"I found my calling, Da. I wanted to thank you before I left." His father tried to convince him it could wait until morning, but John knew he couldn't leave a dead body in his truck for hours while his parents tried to pick his head for why he was leaving. He was thankful to see his mother appear, no words between them just a look as she recognised the determination he had to go. If there was anything they understood, it was that if God willed it, then it had to be obeyed. They would not argue with the will of a higher power.
There were no teary goodbyes, not when they knew that there was something watching over him to keep him safe. They didn't let him go empty handed, though. His father wouldn't let him leave without being sure that he had done everything to make sure John was on the right path. His father had kept a wooden rosary - John couldn't remember a day without seeing him carrying it. It had brought him closer to God, now that he'd given it to John, there was no clearer sign that everything was happening for a reason.
As much as he would have liked to push the limits of how much time he had left in Cat Creek saying goodbye to his parents, they weren't the only people he had come to see. There was only one other stop and he had made up his mind about it back in Mea's cabin cellar, when he was sure he was going to die. Annabelle may have slept around, may have been part of what started his entire descent into madness that had let him unleash something within him that should not have existed, but he did love her and he could understand that love a lot more than what he felt for Mea.
The lights were off when he stopped in front of her house. Either she was still at work or she was asleep, it didn't matter which: this was his perfect scenario. Confronting her just when he was about to leave with how he felt was a recipe for disaster. He wanted to remember her as the beautiful girl he had seen the other day. With a girl like Annie, there was no way of telling how she would react to his confession, and he already had a good memory to remember her by. And he had something better to give her than a confession.
Out of the glovebox, John pulled out a small wooden carving. It had been lying there for days as he fought with himself over whether he should give it to her or not. He wondered how many of the men she had been with knew she loved horses. He doubted many of them could even tell him the colour of her eyes, let alone any of her other interests. It was all the proof he had for her. All he hoped for was that she would find it on her porch swing and feel appreciated, even if it was just for a moment.
There were so many people in town who would have wanted to say goodbye to him, but he had no time. His engine roared as he speed out of town. The needle on the speedometer climbed and continued to climb as he raced down the empty road. Once he had a sign, he would stop and find a place for the body, but he didn't know how far that could be or what he had to be looking for.
John's legs had become stiff flooring the accelerator, when he received his first sign. Ahead of him, the lights and siren of a state trooper came on. There was no one else on the road but him. He could continue going and he'd outrun the cruiser, but then there would be more waiting for him along the way. No reason waking all the cavalry if he could just stop now.
Easing off the accelerator, he gradually brought his speed down until he could risk using the brake without sending the car into a spin. He stopped several miles from where he had first seen the cruiser and waited for it to catch up. So this was what his path was. He would pay for his crimes. It was more than fair - at least he had managed to say his goodbye when everyone still thought he was a good, honest man. God had given him more than enough courtesy.
The state trooper, a thick set man with a buckle that wouldn't do up, eventually tapped on his window. John opened it without a moment's hesitation. This was God's man and he would not anger Him.
"Do you know how fast you were going?" There was the obvious disinterest in his voice of someone who had been pulling over speeding hooligans for too long to care anymore. John would change that for him and help him start on a new path.
"I hadn't checked but I'd have to say over a hundred." John wasn't trying to sound like a smart arse, he was just telling the truth. The trooper didn't seem to like it, obvious by his too heavy sigh.
"Please step out of the car, sir." John complied. "Could you open the tray?" Suddenly John's heart started racing. This was it. He was going to show someone outside of the cabin the truth and then it would be all over. John couldn't believe how excited he felt. It was like a kid on Christmas Day.
Going to the back of the truck, bathed in the light of the state troopers torch, he lifted the hard tonneau cover. The body was mangled in between the tools and odds and ends that had been thrown out of place. She looked so strange, all bent out of shape. She didn't look nearly as alive as she had when he had put her in there. The car had transformed her from a person into a doll. As the trooper flashed the torch over her, the lifeless eyes staring at John, he could almost believe they were just plastic.
"Holy -" The man cut himself off. The light from his car was all that illuminated her as he dropped the torch. "Step away from the vehicle, sir!"
John looked at the man as he fumbled for his gun. This wasn't how he had imagined it happening. The way he was shaking like a leaf was just... not right. He should have known what was coming and handled it properly and professionally, taking him in without all the tomfoolery. The fear in the man's beady eyes as he tried to understand John's curious expression should not have been there. Unless...
Unless he was an imposter. This man had the audacity to pretend he had been sent by the higher power. John thought that his anger would be spent for the day, that he wouldn't be reduced to the kind of mindless beast that Mea had feed with the temptation of murder, but it was there again.
Reaching into the tray, John found exactly what he wanted: the wrench. The officer's warnings and commands held no power over him now. He wasn't going to be delicate. This man could have ruined him. John could have been put to death when he didn't deserve it.
He did not think as he hefted the wrench out of the truck towards the gargantuan man. God, he was loud, like the girl. Did he think that just because he had a badge it gave him the right to arrest John? A man who God had higher plans for?
The gun was still stuck in the trooper's holster when the wrench smashed against the man's forehead. He went down like with a thud, the same way the girl had when Mea had let her free. John wasn't done, though. That shocked gape had to go away. His eyes couldn't stay open up to heaven. The wrench came down on the man's head again, and again, and again.
Back on the road, John was a bit more cautious. He was trembling again, not from the anger this time, but because he had seen exactly what it could do. Getting caught now would be a disaster and the weight of the man threw the back of the truck on a sharp turn. He didn't think he had much room for another body in the back if he ran into another person, and another trooper would probably look at the blood speckled across John's shirt and make up his mind to be hostile long before he even saw why he had any right to be. God would watch over him, but not knowing the plan terrified him. He would have to find someplace soon to get rid of the bodies. And he needed some gas. That had to come soon too.
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
OOC: Post is long and shitty and boring. Sowwy.
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ It was quick, it was fast, and John had managed to escape from her grasp. He smashed his formed fist into her head and moved out from under her. The cart tipped over and fell to the ground, the tools were spread everywhere. Unorganized. This wasn't exactly how she was picturing to spend her evening. Smeared in blood that wasn't hers, being caught by someone she didn't want exposed to this. She didn't want any of this; but the way John was now. The darkness and evil that she finally called out was like a breath of fresh air. He was exactly how she was in her early years. Full of nothing but the want... The need to --
His words were like harmless bullets bouncing off of glass. She was so used to hearing this. So used to hearing how people would get the better of her. Except with John, he was right about one thing. The tiny bit of Mea that was there, the actual pure girl full of innocence would be shattered if her Father were to find out. He was the only thing that kept her grounded. If he were gone, the very darkness that plagued her now, would consume her further.
She wouldn't allow that to happen. Mea already knew how she would dispose of John. She could easily shut down this place, discard all evidence and play it by ear. Mea had already planned for the inevitable. If she were to get caught. She could survive. Withdraw all the money that she had been saving, dispose of all the tools and suspicious things and relocate. Change her looks, identity... The process would be long, and she would have to take her time, but she could and would do it. The Devil’s unrelenting gaze stared at her little Shadow backing out of the cellar with the girl he had killed. He was right that no one would believe she did it; Mea could play him off very well. A disturbing smile flicked across her face. He really was underestimating her.
Then he was gone. After having such difficulty of removing the girl from the cellar and pulling her up the stairs it was quiet. The blood on the floor never looked so beautiful. Hot, sticky, messy blood. The unstable hunger to kill...to get that certain high wasn’t quenched. She did not kill it. In fact, she had brought forth something beautiful in itself. She stood after a few minutes of enjoying the silence. She knew John wouldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell anyone. What exactly would his excuse would be that he didn’t go and report to the cops of what was happening. He could have too. She didn’t even know he was there until he had told her to stop.
Red moved to the entrance of the cellar, just barely catching John in the distance pulling out. His red break lights were seen disappearing on the horizon line. She was sure they were going to see each other again. The violence he held mixed in with the anger he had locked away made him into a loose cannon. Mea was reserved. Ever so scheming and plotting. She then went into action. Mea needed to get herself cleaned up and the cellar cleaned. The smell of death in there was overpowering. It was quite amazing that it didn’t bother her. However, if some other snooping person had discovered her place, it would be difficult to explain. She could try to pass it off as a place where she slaughtered the animals, but the straps were far too little for that purpose.
Running full speed to a facet at the gate that lead into the back pasture, she screwed the hose onto it. The water was utterly cold, but it got the job done. She scrubbed the blood off of her, and did her best with the clothes. They were just going to hold on for now. After she was done, she turned off the facet and ran the hose all the way to her cellar. She had to add on a few extensions onto the hose, for it wasn’t that long enough by itself to reach there. Upon arriving back at her cellar after making one last trip to turn on the facet again, she roped the hose down to where the blood was; spraying it down into the drain grate that was in the corner.
It took a little bit, but soon all the blood was gone. Her tools were still scattered on the floor, and she took her time cleaning them off. Laying them out to dry, she went back out of the cellar and walked back to the tool shed that was next to the barn. Opening the door to the shed, she grabbed a huge gallon of bleach, cleaning tools and rubber gloves. Lugging those back to the cellar she poured the bleach everywhere. Placing the gloves on, she went to work scrubbing each and every square inch of the place.
She did this every time. And every time she felt better knowing that there was no trace of blood in there after she was done. Grabbing a container she sat her tools inside, pouring bleach on them. In her cleaning process, she refused to believe that John Custer was the one to single-handedly bring an end to her. She had brought forth a whole new view in the world for him. Now with the way he was, she could only help to think that he thought as she did. It wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing.
It felt like hours later, but Mea was done with the cellar. The straps that hung so taunt from the ceiling were taken down. Her tools all packed up. She had moved the cart back to the tool shed. Hiding it away from the prying eyes of anyone that wanted to look through her place. The bleach and leather straps were also hidden in the tool shed. The water hose was put back up. The cellar stunk of bleach and cleaning products, but the smell of death was gone. Now she needed to sell off the kidney.
There was someone who she kept on tabs for the past few days requesting one. He was available any time, but also told her that his request was time sensitive. His daughter of twenty-four needed a replacement, and he couldn’t find a donor for one. The soft side of Mea accepted his offer after doing a thorough background check of him. She figured it was a fair trade. A kidney to save someone’s life, while obtaining money to keep her father alive. How the tables turned when it came to her father. It was more than just senseless killing. It wasn’t the act of a desperate girl, but since she had such an unique gift, why not put it to good use?
After obtaining the kidney from the meat locker, she closed the cellar door. Hesitating to move from the spot of it. Her head bent toward the door, as if she could still hear the screaming yet; but there was none. There was silence minus the crickets chirping in the background and the wind whipping through her hair.
Picking up the kidney and her tools she moved one final last time back to the ranch house. She was exhausted, but the adrenaline still pumping through her blood kept her moving. Mea looked like absolute hell. Her clothes had blood stains all over them, her hair was a mess and she was freezing. The smell of bleach clung to her body like her clothes did when they were wet. Getting back to the tool shed she placed the kidney down and went to the back, her tools still in tow and moved a loose wooden board out of the way.
Tucking them in there, she knocked some dirt over them, making sure that if someone where to kick it loose, they wouldn’t be exposed right away. She then exit the tool shed, grabbing the kidney and stashing it in the cooler outside of the house. Mea peeked inside to make sure Angie was sleeping, and she was. The girl got up early in the morning to go to work.
Opening the screen door to the house she took off her shoes, leaving them on the back patio as she tiptoed through the house. Her movements quiet, she went ever so silently. The only light guiding her footsteps were the one that was left on in her dad’s room. Finally reaching Mea’s room, she stripped down, grabbing the clothes and putting them in a plastic bag. Jumping into the shower she rinsed herself clean of any remaining blood and stench that was still stubbornly clinging onto her. She stood under the warm heat of the water rinsing down her body, her mind thinking away.
She would admit, but she had a slight paranoia that there were going to be cops busting down her door at any minute. John... she highly doubt he had that much gull to turn her in. Like he said though. They wouldn’t believe Mea would have that much caliber to do something so horrendous as murdering someone. All the fingers would be pointed at John, and when he was locked away, behind bars Mea would have disappeared into thin air. Just like the people she killed.
After a half hour had passed, she turned off the shower, standing in front of her steamed up mirror. Turning on the bathroom fan to make the steam evaporate, she left the room and went to hers, laying out a new set of clothes. A nice black blouse with red trim and black slacks and dress shoes. It was always her initial thought to look represent-able - unrecognizable when trading something such as this.
Moving back to the bathroom, she took out some makeup and placed it on. Something she hardly if ever wore. People told her she never needed it, but she felt like she did at times. It was just an inconvenience to take on and off. Putting so much detail into something, just to have to take it off again. Yeah...made a whole lot of sense. Drying her hair and combing it out, she started to straighten it. Mea loved her curly hair; she felt it added character to her and her personality. After she was done, she dressed herself in the clothes she put out. Making sure she felt presentable, she made her way to her Dad’s room.
Mea was hesitant on going inside, but regardless she went in. ”Hey Pa, I’ll be home later, love you,” she whispered and kissed his forehead again before leaving. Grabbing the keys to her truck she went to the back and picked up the container that held the kidney. Walking to her truck she slid in, and buried the container over Ray’s old football jacket he had in school. She was going to burn that thing along with the clothes.
Crap, she forgot about that. Running inside, she grabbed the clothes in the plastic bag, but was disrupted by Angie stumbling into the living room. ”Where are you goin? Everything okay?” she questioned.
”Don’t you worry bout’ a thing Angie. Ray’s just taking me out to eat,”
”At this hour?” she looked at her puzzled.
”Yeah... Real bad case of the munchies, you understand,” Mea smiled and walked out the door, calling to Angie over her shoulder. ”Yuh’ have a great day tomorrow, a’lright?” Mea waved and got into the truck, driving off.
Mea’s eyes glanced at the time. It was almost ten at night. She hoped that guy was still available. She wasn’t about to waste something that she had to go through so much effort to get. Driving outside of town, she stopped at a gas station. The same one that she had abducted that business man so many years ago. Sliding up to a phone booth, she dialed the number she had memorized for her Buyer. It took a few tries, as he was asleep.
”Hello?” the voice asked groaned, feigning a yawn.
”Hello Mr. Licht. I have the order you have requested. Anne’s Diner, thirty minutes. Be there.” Mea ordered and hung up the phone. Brushing a strand of hair away from her face she walked into the Gas station; bumming a cigarette off a guy and grabbing something small to drink.
Climbing back into her truck she drove down the road a few miles more until the lights of the next town was in view. Anne’s diner was just a small little restaurant by a bank. Not the most favorable of places, but it would have to do. Any second now the guy would be here. Hopefully.
As if her thoughts were heard, a car pulled into the lot; a very tired looking man and his daughter came out of the car. She felt a little iffy. Not knowing that he would be bringing someone else, but then again Mea didn’t really specify. Watching them go into the diner, Mea slid out of her truck and brought with her the small container. Her eyes scanned over the car, noticing they had left opened the back window. Carefully and ever so gently she wiped her fingerprints off of the container and placed it in the back seat of the car.
Going back to her truck she grabbed a sharpie, and a sticky note. Writing: Good luck onto it. That is what would more than likely get Mea caught. She wouldn’t be that evilness right now. The father of the girl needed a kidney, and barely had money. They lived in a three room apartment in a city not too far from here. Barely making do with what they had. She shook her head while placing the sticky note onto the container.
Her eyes went back into the diner. The two sitting nervously together. She envied the girl, her father was still able to move around. Still able to get up and eat and talk. Go places do things... Whereas her father could not. Clenching her fists she got back into the truck and drove off, heading back home.
Before she could blink two years had passed by. Her father, god rest his soul, had passed away last year. Angie had moved out, and Ray no longer lived in Cat Creek. Andrew went back to the Marines; more than likely back overseas again, and Annabelle was slammed with twenty years in prison for selling drugs. The thought of that made Mea’s lips smile.
However it felt like one big weight had lift off her shoulders. With her father gone, there was nothing holding her back. People were amazed with the strength she possessed. Being able to carry on by herself, run the Ranch by herself.. There were many offers made by people to take the Ranch off her hands, but she humbly turned them down; giving them that award winning smile of hers.
Ever since that night with John, she never once went back to that room. Feeling the tranquility in the nature of it was shattered by that night's events. It still played in her mind as if it were yesterday. How easily she broke John was amazing. The way he watched her, almost mesmerized by the stroke of each cut she made on the girl left him almost breathless. Mea, though could see how repulsed he looked. The look in his eyes that made him want to run away and pretend all that never happened.
When he snapped though, those cold, callous eyes glaring back at her. How he threw her down and pinned her, and told her what was going to happen. It gave her body a weird sense of goosebumps, knowing that she could bring out the utmost worst in people. Mea was starting to lose herself though to the darkness inside of her. The masks that hold back her secrets. Her feelings, and general idea of everyone. She hated everyone in some small way, but she hated John the most. For making her feel that way in her place. It could be seen as a fair trade; Mea making him break and John, for a short while rendering her helpless.
Then when her father died, Mea had snapped. She disappeared for a few days, but in those few days her monster had full control. Killing people who got caught in her wake. Of course though, she never got caught. While she was completely lost to herself, the monster controlling her made sure that she would survive to see more.
Now Mea was truly alone. There was no one there for her. No one that she had to protect or watch out for. She had given her father a peace of mind when he had died, but now when she sat in that house, she felt the silence crippling. There was nothing to keep her desires grounded. There was so much killing. She felt no remorse for anyone anymore. Cat Creek would forever know Mea as the dutiful daughter that stuck by her father’s side, not the girl who commit such heinous deeds. She no longer performed her murders in her hometown, but rather found places to do them that were close by her victim. She felt she could call them that, since she didn’t sell their body parts anymore. Her ranch that she inherited from her father brought in more than enough money for her to live off of.
Even now her Ranch was still going strong. The horses and animals fed and taken care of daily. The once shabby barn was now a deep red with white trimmings. Courtesy to Mr. Wolfe for the help. Mea was now debating if she should sell the Ranch and move elsewhere.
She also thought of Mr. Custer. What exactly ever happened to the Preacher’s Son? The beloved man of the Town? The sole person who held the Town in the palm of his hands. She hadn’t seen, or heard from him in ages. His parents blamed Annabelle for his disappearance. Blaming the girl that she had broke his heart so bad, that he had to move. It was beautiful when they tore her a new one. How they practically embarrassed her in front of the whole Town. The true nature of people was so amusing. The ever so kind and peaceful nature of John’s parents were shattered. Reduced to nothing but angry, hateful people who only wanted John to come back. Yelling at Annabelle how John should have been with Mea instead of falling for her. It was quite beautiful.
It had been exactly Twenty eight days, nine hours and four minutes since she had killed someone. She couldn’t kill. She couldn’t find the need to. Every time she was at that moment of the actual killing, she froze up. The blade she held so tightly in her hands. She no longer sliced people up. John had ruined that ritual. It no longer held any meaning. Luckily, the people she had tried to kill were either so ******** up to remember anything, or was sleeping in their bed the two had shared before she got to that moment.
The monster inside her was ever so relentless. It needled into her now as she sat on a bench nestled on the pier; her legs crossed as she laughed at the man’s joke that was sitting with her. His friends all around, everyone dressed formally. Mea wore a short black dress that hugged her curves; a silver anklet adorned her black pumps. The man sitting by her was her target.
All she had to do was wear a pretty little dress and hang on his every word and he would be hers. The sound of a Cuban band in the distance, people dancing to the music. There were people everywhere, celebrating some great feat that the guy she was sitting next to had accomplished. She was in a city a few towns over from Cat Creek. These people never met her before, nor had she met them. The man she was sitting with got up, his friends gesturing him over to meet their friends.
”It’ll only be a second, okay hun?”
”Sure,” she smiled sweetly, never raising from her seat as her eyes went across the lake. The sun was setting, barely lighting up the place. Dimmed light posts where lined with the fence; her smile fell to a hardly existent one when he was over with his friends, flirting with another girl. Her eyes left the lake and gazed at the girl. A pretty little brunette who over exaggerated her laugh. Laughing at each and everything the man was saying. He looked back over at Mea and she flashed him a smile. He’d be worth it. Her first victim in Twenty eight days, ten hours and five minutes. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- Nothing had quite worked out the way John had expected. It seemed like no matter what he did for those first few weeks, he couldn't stop hating everyone he met. A slew of broken noses, battered ribs and shaken resolves followed him. On top of it all, there had been the people who had pushed him too far. If the junkies, the drunks and the bums had just left him alone, if they hadn't pestered him as he tried to stay away from the civilised folk, they would have been fine. Their looks, the whining about needing some change, the remarks that were too close to the truth, it had just sent him over the edge.
Weeks turned into months as he continued to try rationalise his purpose or blame Mea for what she had done to him. Every time he saw blood red hair, he froze, scared that it if they turned around, it would be Mea. Two women were buried somewhere in the Mojave Desert because they looked too much like her. It had been as he was disposing the second girl that he had received his next sign. He found an avenue for the senseless violence.
In that first year, he could barely remember a day when he hadn't seen the look of fear in someone's eyes. It had been like he needed to make up for all those years he had held back. Sloppy, he had ended up with arrest warrants in four states. It was dumb luck that the severity of the offences were no more than assault. He knew that if anyone could link him to any one of the murders, he would be serving twenty-five to life or counting down the days the State had given him.
Eventually, everything had turned around; there was more time when he could be the old John. It was that sensibility that had brought him so close to Cat Creek. Honestly, he thought it would have taken longer than this. He thought he would need ten years, even twenty, to be able to come back to Cat Creek and face what had happened there. Skirting around the town now, he thought that was still possible. For three days he had driving to the main road into Cat Creek only to come back to his hotel room.
Today he had a half baked excuse to stay behind. One of the other guests at the hotel had a spare plus one to a party, and John had had the good fortune of being able to claim it. It wasn't rare. Attending little events like that had become John's life. Everyone there was lying, about their jobs, their families, who they were. A few choice words and all the guests would be eating out of his hand, and when he had the audacity to be the only one there to tell the truth, they just told him to stop being such a tease. Who would believe anyone who said 'I kill people and take their money' while decked out in a several thousand dollar suit?
The party had the exact kind of extravagance that John had come to enjoy. There was a lot of oneupmanship, a lot to drink, and a pleasant anonymity about intermingling with a crowd that would be introduced to more people than they could possibly hope to remember who had come in from every corner of the country. A party of the rich, instead of the poor pretending to be rich. It was always so easy to find someone that would bear the brunt of his anger.
John made no effort to fade into the background. These occasions weren't just for him to find a new outlet, they were his whole life. Between coming up with charming stories and exchanging witty banter, he still found himself helping the others. He had been to hundreds of these parties and had learnt more about managing a business and dealing with office gossip than someone who spent all day actually doing the job. A fresh pair of eyes on someone else's problem, he became the little saviour of the artificial flock.
A usual congregation had gathered around John and a few people who had decided to argue with him. The discussion was a standard pissing match over the development of cubism. No one really knew what they were talking about, but as long as they made the conversation sound intellectual and dreamt up reasons why the other was wrong, everyone would stand about entirely fascinated. A supposed art critic had kindly backed up John's half-baked concepts, so John was still winning against his significantly older counterpart. It was unfair. John had argued the same thing three months ago with someone who had actually known what they were talking about.
The night had been going quite well, no one had done anything to inspire his anger and he was not at a loss for guests who would happily part with a sizeable amount of cash for his 'projects'. John never felt bad accepting cheques from people who could easily afford it. They were supporting a lifestyle that had been sanctioned by God. Most didn't give to charity, so he thought he may as well be the only charity they would give to. It could have ended so well, if he hadn't heard that unforgettable laughing staccato.
He was thrown out of the argument as he saw, far outside the circle of people who had joined him, those red curls. He was always scared that Mea would find him in his new life and ruin it all for him. There was little relief knowing that the last time he had seen another expatriate from Cat Creek, they hadn't recognised him. The same grey three-piece he was wearing now, the softer accent and a new haircut had been enough to make his former classmate feel like he was meeting John for the first time. Mea knew him better, though. She could still be able to place him.
Panic startled to settle in as he tried to form a plan while keeping up the false pretence that nothing had happened. Thinking on his feet to get out of tricky scenarios like that had become a new item on his résumé. While he continued to entertain the guests, he kept an eye on Mea. She was with the host, a man John had been briefly introduced to at the beginning of the party. So she wasn't another guest, she was hunting. This was a new environment compared to where she must have picked up his first kill.
When the host had left her side, John excused himself from the conversation. The panic had subsided somewhat as he noticed that she was much too preoccupied with her next patient to look his way. This could work out very well. He picked up two glasses of champagne and decided to join her in her little corner of the world.
"Enjoying the party?" he asked, offering her a flute, a casual gesture to distract her from looking too closely at his face. It was a struggle to hold back a smile or telling her outright that it was him. This wasn't the scenario he had hoped to meet her in, but he might as well exploit it. If she really thought that she had transformed him and understood him, she should have been able to recognise him. If after their little tête-à-tête, she was still oblivious, then he would go into Cat Creek tomorrow and gloat.
"Dylan's quite a guy, hey?" After the hoops she had sent him through, he would test to see how on the ball she was, if she even knew the name of the person she was going to harvest. "Knows how to throw a party. I wish I'd known him earlier."
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .
OOC: I hold no responsibility for what Nyx did to the other characters!
Gwyenevere
Aged Vampire
✗THE RANCHER'S DAUGHTER!
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
❝MY DEVIL DANCED WITH HIS DEMON AND THE FIDDLER'S TUNE IS FAR FROM OVER.❞
- ⊳⊳⊰ "Enjoying the party?" a voice asked her as she sat there, observing the host flirting with the other girl. The girl batting her eyelashes, occasionally giving Dylan a touch on the arm. She knew that game all to well. Guys were attracted to air headed girls like the brunette like bees were to honey. From what Mea could tell, the girl was only eye candy. Mea sighed, hearing bits and pieces of the group's conversation as they were not that far away. The brunette; polluting the air with her profound knowledge on Cuban culture. Her legs still crossed as she arched her back slightly to stretch, then rest it against the back of the bench.
Her first initial thought was, 'Who's this chump standing by me?' She really didn't want to hear their lame, false facts on the topic of Cuban culture. Knowing the occasion was going to be Cuban themed, she had already studied up on the topic. She didn't want to seem unintelligent to the crowd, but there really was no point. Everyone in their right mind knew absolutely nothing about the culture. "Dylan's quite a guy, hey?" he asked again, offering her a drink. Taking it and returning him with a smile, he looked awfully familiar; but he seemed to know the host, or Dylan, on a first name bases. Or was he introduced to him upon arriving here? "Knows how to throw a party. I wish I'd known him earlier." the stranger commented sitting by her.
"He at least got the band right. " she gave him a raised eyebrow, commenting on Dylan's lack of intelligence on the Cuban culture. Her hazel eyes looked over the guy standing by her again. Just who was this person? She knew him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Looking away from him, she took a sip of the champagne he brought her.
Dylan Fletcher; Businessman extraordinaire. He held a rather large business bureau, with a trading company down South. Anything the man could trade he would. He was worth a quite a bit of money. As Mea got to know him better, he was nothing but a man who used other people for his personal gain. Not caring who they were, or what status they currently were in. He'd sell the clothes off someone's back, even if they were family; just to make it in time. It didn't matter what he had to do to get to his goal.
He was almost like her in a way, but Mea was certain that she wouldn't ever do that to her family. John was, and would be the only person she personally knew that would ever see her the way she truly was. Her number one rule was to not get caught, and he had caught her red handed.Then it hit her. Those light grey eyes that looked at her so intently, it couldn't be. Could it? There was no way that could be John standing by her. Her eyes looked back at him, a simple haircut, and a different air about him. Those eyes... Yes, it was definitely him. Mea could say she was impressed that he was here, in an easily thousand dollar suit. "And how do you know Dylan, Mr. Custer?" she called him by his last name, taking another sip out of her glass. He wouldn't do anything stupid in front of a thousand people, which gave her the upper hand if he should attack her. However, he didn't seem like he would. Hopefully he had gotten smarter over the past two years since they had last saw each other.
Twenty-eight days, ten hours and fifteen minutes. ⊱⊲⊲
↳ ɪ ѕєє мʏѕєʟғ ғяσм мaиʏ aиɢʟєѕ ↲
↘↘ T H I SxxR O O MxxH A SxxG O TxxS OxxM A N YxxM I R R O R S...
I aM αмσпɢ aN aLPHaBeT OF aNGeLS ↖↖
↙↙ BUT N O T H I N G IS aS IT aPPeaRS
Cleaver Greene
Aged Informer
- ☠ Y O U x E X I S T x B E C A U S E x W E x A L L O W x IT . . .
- 'The band?' he thought. John hadn't really much cared for it himself. There were better things to be focusing on than the accompaniment for the day. And then the brass and drums caught his attention for the first time. 'Oh, yes. The band.' The loose Cuban theme that had been adopted by the party was only acknowledged by their music and Dylan's insistance that the party had some relation to Cuba. John had thought it had been a risky move merely suggesting that it would be Cuban themed, but Dylan had handled it quite nicely. The etiquette and politics were probably lost on Mea, he supposed. She didn't live in his world, but he didn't think to educate her on it. It would sound too much like gloating and he didn't want to gloat yet.
It felt like a pleasant change of fate when Mea appeared to have gotten bored of his presence in just a few seconds. Her interest in him seemed to have faded the moment she brought her attention back to her target. Not many people gave him the cold shoulder, only because he didn't go out looking for many people. He would take the none too subtle hint and leave. They could have their reunion tomorrow.
Just before he could apologise for bothering her, he could see her mind start racing. He could probably pinpoint the exact moment when she recognised him. He wished he could have known what was going through her mind as she finally picked out his name.
"Mister Custer? Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while." The last time someone would have used that name would have been sixteen months ago, when he had been sitting in a police station waiting to be given bail for the assault of a woman who had been sniggering at his truck. Both the name and the truck had been dumped when he started his latest, extravagant lifestyle.
Now that she'd identified him, he could have moved their conversation away from the party, but he didn't want to yet. She had asked him a question and he would answer it. "I was invited by his ex-boyfriend," he said matter-of-factly. The poor girls like the brunette could flirt with Dylan all she wanted, but if they were invited back to his room, they wouldn't be looking forward to more than a continuation of a pleasant conversation. Dylan liked to keep up the appearance that he was a ladies man for the benefit of his religious sponsors, of course, but John couldn't have pretended that he hadn't been given a angry stare pierced with jealousy when they had been introduced. "Who'd have thought a fella like that would be a bum boy?"
"But enough about me. How have you been?" That was something he never thought he would have said to her again, but at least it was better than talking about himself. He would divulge more of his history when it suited him, not when she asked for it. "Mister Dixon still enjoying the proceeds of your work. Still working?"
Gesturing with the glass to the empty space on the bench beside her, he said, "May I?" There was no point telling him no, he would take the seat regardless, he had just gotten to used to the formalities. It was small gestures like that that had changed John so much, and he wondered what Mea would think. She had been so intent on turning him into something like herself. Was what he had become what she had expected those two years ago?
☠ . . . A N D x Y O U x W I L L x D I E x B E C A U S E x W E x D E M A N D x I T .