Without My Angel...

Without My Soul

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Chapter One

White Wedding

Why did everyone always see white as the purest color of all? It was the easiest to stain... the easiest to stain with sin. For me, I see through the eyes of the different. I see through the eyes of a unique person. I see through my eyes, most importantly. Black for me would be the purest. Why? Simple. When you spill sin within your soul, it will not show. When you look at it, it's as bland as white. It was easier to manage, but the only thing that could stain it is white.

Now why does everyone see black as evil? Sure it could stain everything, but couldn't white? If you spilled white paint over an color surface, excluding white its self, would it not show?

People are so predictable these days. Their shallow minds let stereotypical tags reign over this era. Those who simply do not fit under any tag will be placed under the tag of 'freak'. That's where I stand in society. Yup, all the people simply untagable, were tagged. Stuck under the cliché tag of 'freak'.

My hands were balled into tight fists under the white table cloth. Everything that surrounded my body was white, even my dress. The waiters stood in all white, as did the guests. Only two people stood in another color. The two most important people. The people who made me gag with the beauty of it all. My cousin and her finance.

They were dressed in red. It was such a religious thing. All because her mother, my aunt, insisted on it. The red symbolized the blood of Jesus Christ, our savior, and the white symbolized the purity he brought back upon this earth. When the two were bound by holy matrimony it would symbolize the bonding of Christ's blood. What complete bull shit.

I reached up from under the table to grab a wine glass. I held it gently. When I got angry like I was now, I tended to forget my own strength. A took a long swig from the contents in the glass. Indeed it was wine. This was one of the only events when my parent would let me drink, and hell, I needed it. It was probably the only thing keeping me from going crazy and flipping over tables. I promised myself I wouldn't freak. I owed it to my cousin. She was a great person who deserved something so beautiful. She was the complete opposite of me. Heart warming wasn't it? I, Victoria Magdalene, was completely a romantic mess.

My relationships had a record of failing... horribly. My first date was with a boy I really didn't like. I just needed experience because I heard the guy I liked above the rest, Ethen Hawkes, was thinking about asking me out. Of course he'd had a couple of girlfriends, but I was completely inexperienced. When I broke up with my very first boyfriend, the rumors became reality. I was so happy back then... well for a good portion of time. I really like him and he really liked me, but that's only what I thought.

On our first Valentines Day, he asked me if I loved him. Of course I did, so I said so. Wrong answer. That day, the boy I like above the rest, Ethen Hawkes, raped me. Naturally I despise him now. He's currently attending Juvenile Hall. It serves him. No, it wasn't for the rape, but another unknown cause. I still laugh at him today. I can't believed I liked someone like him. Well it's over now.

Once my glass was empty, I set it down on the table and my hands returned into their fists under the white cloth. It was almost like a ghost that cloaked my true feelings. Or possibly my skin. I was paler than anyone in the room anyway. My dark mousy brown hair and ice blue eyes seemed to make me look evil to most. I found my hair too dark so I bleached the bottom half of it. Sure I look even more like the 'freak' everyone expected me to be, but I like myself. It was a big difference from the people that surrounded me. I really wouldn't want to change any small aspect about myself. Now in the cliques, that was a different story. Talk about plastic.

My attention was stolen by my cousin. A fake smile tugged at my lips. "Hello Helen," I said, my voice masked with the pleasant little greeting.

"Vicky! You look so nice in that dress! I love the color white on you! It matches your skin!" She chirped. I almost flinched at her comment. There were several things she had said wrong:

One. Never ever call me Vicky... or any other nickname. I loath them all. Victoria will do. Would it kill you to add two more syllables.

Two. She always said everything looked nice on me. Except black. I found black charming on me, but Helen thought different.

And last but not least three. She just compared my skin to a pure white, not off white or cream, pure white dress. Yes I acknowledge the fact I'm pale... but she just rubbed a stain in my black soul. A big white smudge.

I sighed and regained my composure. She was a very nice person, but she didn't know what bothered me. Really nobody did. It wasn't her fault. If anyone's it was mine.