Author: shekherezada PM
Angel loves to write. She loves the feeling of power it gives her. It's an escape from her dysfunctional family, the constant fighting. It's an escape from reality. But when her grip on reality begins to slip, will she become the story itself?Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Angst - Chapters: 12 - Words: 13,949 - Reviews: 45 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 07-06-07 - Published: 03-12-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2332603
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
My first completed story. First off, I want to thank HermyJane and Marth for their critique and ideas. And, of course, I'll acknowledge the people who loved this story and reviewed it. Thanks so much!
I was created in the image of beauty--the image that every female would envy, every male would want, and every human being would worship. I was manufactured so my creator, sixteen-year-old Angel, could picture herself looking like me, so that she could feel beautiful when she wrote about my story. Now that she is dead, I am free of her chains, and her strings. I am no longer her puppet, but I cannot help but pity her. She was so desperate to be something else than what she was, so desperate to love herself, that she allowed herself to be chained and controlled by Mercy, and followed his wishes and demands. But Angel was a person who followed her own rules, and when he pushed it too far, she refused to kill me. I am grateful for that, and am grateful that she had the courage to kill Mercy, even if it meant the death of herself.
Her parents think she committed suicide. They found her crumpled on the floor, back to her original self, a knife in her chest. She was smiling, and for once, looked beautiful by herself.
In the end, Mercy was right. People are beautiful in death.