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Guilt and Desire
"No..." I muttered, as I watched my thin fingers covered in crimson fluid. The blood isn't mine however, it became more obvious as I watched John sobbing, strapped on the chair in front with eyes widened fixtated on mine. A bitemark on the side of his neck, shirt torn off with bloodstains and countless of fresh scratches on his exposed skin.
I kneeled on the floor, knowing what I have done ,"Why..." I whispered under my breathe.
Complete silence, followed by clacking of high-heels in a familiar rhythmn circling behind me like a shark following it's prey ,"You've done very well, dear," a voice spoke boldly ,"I am proud of you, really," I glared at her in protest, the beautiful woman with lustrous hair as red as the blood on my hand. Thick eyelashes, plump lips, she would've been one of the most attractive human on earth if it wasn't for her curved horns, bloody fangs, huge bat wings and spear-like devil tail.
I have known Ella for many more years before, but it's just few months ago that she began to open up and properly introduced herself. She is my guardian from hell, unknowingly I had made a pact with her and now I regret my descision.
My family doesn't have Bill Gate's money, but they had enough to buy me things that I want as long as it wasn't a provate jet, Lamborghini or anything ridiculously expensive. I may be one of those spoiled kids with a good life, but I don't always like the attention I am given. In fact, often I despise them.
Since the beginning I've always been diffeeebt from the other girls. Back in elementary while everyone was talking about Justin Bieber and One Direction, I was much more into Beyblade and playing with animals on the outdoors. I was outcasted because I didn't know how to dance like those sweet, strawberry-pink idols, I never liked wearing pink at the first place, especially skirts or dresses.
Speaking of skirts, my mother was fine with me exploring the wilderness with dad, however she established her own rules as well. She was a fashionista, I admit, but I hated growing up being her mannequin. I rather read my comic books or play video games, but often she drags me to the mall against my will. The rules are always the same: stay inside the store, look around for at least 1-2 hours, no screen time.
I alwasy hate this part of the weekend, I never fancy anything from Zara or H&M. I simply like to dress comfortable in t-shirts and jeans or shorts, I don't like to prep myself up pretty and sparkling like catwalk models. Mom would insist however, even after I told her I found no liking of any of these garments, and even if I do usually she would dismiss...
I kneeled on the floor, knowing what I have done ,"Why..." I whispered under my breathe.
Complete silence, followed by clacking of high-heels in a familiar rhythmn circling behind me like a shark following it's prey ,"You've done very well, dear," a voice spoke boldly ,"I am proud of you, really," I glared at her in protest, the beautiful woman with lustrous hair as red as the blood on my hand. Thick eyelashes, plump lips, she would've been one of the most attractive human on earth if it wasn't for her curved horns, bloody fangs, huge bat wings and spear-like devil tail.
I have known Ella for many more years before, but it's just few months ago that she began to open up and properly introduced herself. She is my guardian from hell, unknowingly I had made a pact with her and now I regret my descision.
My family doesn't have Bill Gate's money, but they had enough to buy me things that I want as long as it wasn't a provate jet, Lamborghini or anything ridiculously expensive. I may be one of those spoiled kids with a good life, but I don't always like the attention I am given. In fact, often I despise them.
Since the beginning I've always been diffeeebt from the other girls. Back in elementary while everyone was talking about Justin Bieber and One Direction, I was much more into Beyblade and playing with animals on the outdoors. I was outcasted because I didn't know how to dance like those sweet, strawberry-pink idols, I never liked wearing pink at the first place, especially skirts or dresses.
Speaking of skirts, my mother was fine with me exploring the wilderness with dad, however she established her own rules as well. She was a fashionista, I admit, but I hated growing up being her mannequin. I rather read my comic books or play video games, but often she drags me to the mall against my will. The rules are always the same: stay inside the store, look around for at least 1-2 hours, no screen time.
I alwasy hate this part of the weekend, I never fancy anything from Zara or H&M. I simply like to dress comfortable in t-shirts and jeans or shorts, I don't like to prep myself up pretty and sparkling like catwalk models. Mom would insist however, even after I told her I found no liking of any of these garments, and even if I do usually she would dismiss...
