Camie looked murderously at her younger sister, fists clenched tightly in rage. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she blinked them back hastily. The little brat had stolen her most prized possession, the only picture she had of her and her true father, and put it through the paper shredder.
It was the last she had, and was priceless, but now it was gone -- ripped into shreds, never to be put back together again. Her black coated nails bit into her palms, one succeeding in popping the skin. Now pain ripped through her hand as blood slowly dripped onto the carpet.
\"I hate you," Camie murmured softly. Miranda either ignored her, or refused to acknowledge her presence and went back to texting her friend.
"I hate you!" Camie was screaming now, before captive tears spilled down her cheeks, smudging her thick black eyeliner and vivid purple mascara. The combination streaked her cheeks and she thought she'd never be rid of it. The girl once again took no notice. Reaching for a thick book Camie chucked it at Miranda. It missed it's original target -- the girl's brightly colored face -- and instead landed square on her right leg, one of the hard corners hitting full force.
At once Miranda burst into tears, blubbering promises of how she'd 'Tell dad that you broke my leg'. Camie felt like yelling at the girl for destroying her father, then threatening to tattle to an asswipe to couldn't care less.
"Why do you have to be so rotten?" Camie asked. The girl gave a roll of the eyes, her tears having stopped a few moments before and easily answered, "Because you aren't really my sister. Why should I care about you?" She gave a crappy imitation of a cruel smirk, but it still cut deep.
"What have I ever done to you!?" Camie's words were mangled and broken, being cut off by another sob.
"You were born and your mother married my father. Even if that wasn't it, I'd still hate you. It's destiny," Miranda knew all too well how easily Camie was hurt and used it to her advantage, driving the girls to tears again. But after years of practice it wasn't all that surprising.
"I wish you were never born, Miranda Devos! I wish you were never created by my mother and the bastard that calls himself your father!" Once again Camie was screaming. And then things began to happen that she knew could never be undone.
The lights above flickered before dying entirely. Only the moon hanging outside the windows provided light. Miranda had stopped moving, and Camie found she couldn't either. As if in slow motion she watched raven haired - Camie had always been jealous of the color - girl begin to literally unravel. In morbid fascination Camie watched as the girls feet were cut into ribbons by an invisible pair of scissors, the pieces springing up and down slightly. Miranda shrieked, a noise that must have carried to the neighbors, and spluttered, "Y-you are doing this to me! Stop! P-please, Camie, stop!" now her legs were following her feet.
Camie could see the darkness between the floating flesh of her step-sister and a chill ran down her back. Yet, she still couldn't make herself move.
"I don't know how, I'm sorry." Next went Miranda's hips and stomach. After a little while the ribbons would dissolve into small particles, and were wiped away slowly. Before long it had reached Miranda's throat. The young girls panicked eyes found Camie's. With one last shriek, what was left of her exploded and disappeared.
'This has to be a bad dream,' the now terrified Camie though. Her hands trembled violently as she looked around the room, waiting to wake up. She still was incapable of moving. But without so much as a warning she fell backwards, her head cracking on the solid wooden floor. In her minds eye the scene unfolded and repeated, as if someone was making sure she would be scarred for life. It wasn't long before Camie had blacked out entirely.