|When The Clock Strikes Twelve
Author: FallenSynner PM
A Twisted take on Cinderella; A patchwork of skin, drawn together by the hate of her father; instead of loosing her dress and slipper, Cinderella looses something much, much more...her sanity...Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror - Chapters: 14 - Words: 8,424 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 04-22-12 - Published: 02-20-12 - id: 2998815
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It was him. The prince from the ball. He stood, his lean figure darkened by the shadows that pulsated through the room, the only sound our heart beats, thumping through the room.
I narrowed my eyes and studied him carefully, watching his face, his emotions, the way he stood...and yet everything I saw was the opposite of what I had expected.
No fear. No fright. No worry or shock. Disgust, hatred, loathing...not a trace was on his face. Instead there was something different...he looked...intrigued.
He stepped towards me, my body freezing at this gesture. No one had ever tried to get close to me before...
His hand reached out to touch my cheek, his soft fingers grazing the mutilated flesh of my skin, tracing the stitches of my forged smile.
"Beautiful..." He breathed, his eyes shining in fascination.
Those words...that look...made me...angry.
I lashed out and grabbed his hand, the fingers popping beneath my grasp.
He thought I was beautiful? Liar. I was a lot of things- pitiful, terrifying, disgusting, crazy...beauty, however, did not fall into my category. Did he think I was some sort of freak- that could be poked and stared at until I got boring? Or perhaps someone finally pitied me...which merely enraged me more.
"Please...y-you're beautiful...your smile, your eyes...everything is different and wonderful..." He said softly, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his words, "You're a patchwork of beauty- sewn together by hate, drawn together by the beauty of life...and baby, you look so good in red..." He breathed, grinning in a way that almost compared to my own.
I stepped towards him, my eyes never leaving his deep orbs, the truth blaring out, shining deep within his words. I grinned back, a small chuckle escaping my battered lips.
"So do you..." I whispered, lifting up the knife to his mouth. I pressed the cool blade gently to his parted lips, the blood of the others killed creating a crimson hue to his mouth. A smile teased the corners of his lips as he bit lightly on the blade, his eyes never leaving mine. I pressed it in deeper, feeling the gently stop as it reached his tongue.
I smirked at him as I slowly pulled it to the corner of his mouth. I admired his ability not to flinch as it cut into his skin, blood trickling down his cheek. His eyes continued to bore into mine as I sliced at his flesh, until the skin on his cheeks tore in two, a smile mirroring my own and the others I had killed forced upon his lips.
His hand once more found my face, running across the stitches on my cheeks, and slowly he leaned in towards me. His lips pressed against mine, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth, the liquid seeping into my mouth as we kissed.
Suddenly, he stopped. Frozen in our kiss, locked in his final moment. I pulled back and smirked, my tongue reaching out and licking the blood from my mouth, the taste familiar and intoxicating.
I stepped backwards, watching as his body hit the floor, a dull thud and wet plat as the blood of his mouth connected with the floor.
I crouched down beside him, a smirk pulling across my lips as I whispered gently in his ear.
"Sorry...no happy endings here..."
I rolled over his body, his eyes covered in a film- unseeing, yet still linked to my own. The dagger in my hand was soaked in his blood, the amount creating a layer of crimson onto the reflective metal. Slowly, I drew my head forward, pressing my lips against his in one final kiss, before melting into the shadows...