Ok, so I know this has an incredibly cliché title, but bear with me. The first chapter is incredibly short, but there wasn’t a whole lot more I could say on the subject. O.o I may come back latter and lengthen this chapter by a lot, or I might just take some artistic license and make all of my chapters one page long. Heh heh heh. Most likely it’ll be the first option. Anyway, I hope you read, enjoy, and review.

Ciao!

Note: sorry about the (break) things. It was the only think I could use that actually showed up on the format on the website. If you’re wondering what they are, they’re the breaks in the flow of the story when it skips ahead in time or switches to someone else’s point of view. I’m still experimenting with this and if I find a better way of doing it, I’ll change it.

(break)

It was a warm summer day; the kind of day that brightens people’s spirits. It seemed as if everyone had a smile on their face that day. Everyone, that is, but a fifteen year old girl at a small café on a corner street. She sat with two middle aged adults who appeared to be her parents. The girl was about 5’6” and had strait, charcoal colored hair, which fell all the way down to her waist. Her crimson eyes, usually concealed by colored contacts, were now hidden behind yellow tinted sunglasses. She wore a white sundress with little red cherries.

She sat at the small table with her ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap, and her eyes downcast, trying her hardest not to hear the conversation of the two with her. They always spoke to each other as if they were a normal family with no problems in the world. Hearing the two make small talk about how so and so at work had done this and that and about how little Stevie had gotten all A’s on his report card made her want to vomit.

A few tables away from these three sat another black haired girl, about thirteen years old. Her name was Debbie and she had been chatting happily to her friends for the last half hour. But now, she got up and headed towards the restroom. As she left her table, a pair of crimson eyes followed her.

“Raven,” the middle aged women said, barely breaking the flow of conversation with the man across from her. With her eyes still tracking Debbie, Raven stood up, grabbed her purse, and followed Debbie into the bathroom.

(break)

Three minutes latter, Raven was standing in front of the sink, scrubbing her hands as hard as she could. The red stain just wouldn’t come out! Finally, she finished washing her hands. Looking up to fix her hair in the mirror, she paused. Crimson eyes stared back at her, an ever constant reminder that she could never escape her crimes. The blood, tough willing to wash off her hands, always remained, clinging to her soul and reflected in her eyes. As she continued to star into the mirror, images from her past came welling up from the depths of those eyes. All of the blood shed, all of the times she had been forced to calmly walk away, without so much as a backwards glance. They all came back to her now. Tears welled up in those crimson eyes, and she fell to her knees, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as if her quiet plea would make any difference whatsoever. “I’m so sorry.”

Five feet away from her, behind the locked store room door, Debbie lay dead. Red drops of blood spattered across her body, a mocking resemblance of her killer’s cherry dotted dress. Her blank eyes, frozen forever in a look of surprise, continued to stare at the ceiling, her slightly open mouth seeming to ask over and over again, “Why me?” Blood slowly dripped from the wide wound along her neck, falling to the floor in a solid rhythm. On the other side of the door, falling to the same rhythm, tears dripped from crimson eyes and a whispered plea was repeated again and again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

(break)

“I wonder what’s taking her,” the woman whispered to her ‘husband.’ “This should have been an easy target.” She raised her coffee cup for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes and took a sip. Finally, she spotted Raven making her way back to their table.

The woman did a quick check to make sure that there was no sign that Raven had done anything other than use the restroom. Her hair was in place and not a speck of blood could be seen on her. The woman smiled behind her raised cup at the girl walking towards her. She was perfectly composed, despite the crime she had just committed. She was truly an amazing weapon.

“Well then dear,” the woman said as Raven reached the table. “Shall we go? After all, we don’t want you to be late for your piano lesson.”

Raven clenched her hands into fists, feeling her nails cutting into the palms of her hands, but her face remained calm and collected.

“Of course mother.” How she longed to slit that woman’s throat.