The Serial Killer's Daughter
By Allie the Epic 7
Chapter 1: (Don't Fear) the Reaper
I was born with red eyes. When I was born, the doctors told my mother, Jean, that it was a genetic irregularly, something from my father's side that wasn't dangerous, just unsightly. Personally, I think the doctors didn't know what to think of me and told my mother that just to calm her down. Of course they would; she was freaking out! The child she'd conceived after being raped and had decided to keep instead of abort was a carbon copy of that asshole. It's a miracle that she didn't give me up for adoption.
The name's Briana Thomas. I'm 16 years old and I'm working to become the best singer in the world. No joke, I write my own songs, play them on the piano, and I sing along to it. It's mostly parodies of old songs, although I have quite a few original songs. My favorite anime is Death Note; I'm a serious otaku about it. I find the story line refreshing compared to some of the crap on our T.V.s (forgive me if your someone who likes that crap) and it is the original crime/supernatural anime. Without warning, the song (Don't Fear) the Reaper started up from the old, worn out speakers of the coffeehouse I was sitting in. tapping my fingers to the beat, I murmured the lyrics under my breathe.
All our times have come Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
we can be like they are
Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper
We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby I'm your man...
While I was sitting at my little, two-person table, a 20 year old, blonde guy with a goatee decided to sit opposite of me. "Hey, babe," he smirked pompously. "Name's Eric. Why don't I buy you a beer and you tell me about yourself." My eyes narrowed in annoyance and dislike. Valentine is done 40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity...
Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness
Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are
"I could care less what you name is," I responded coldly, glaring at the idiotic man. "I'm more concerned over the fact that you just tried to give a 16 year old alcohol and, by hitting on me, you're making yourself a pedophile. So, leave, or I'll scream." Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper Love of two is one
Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper
We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby I'm your man...
Here but now they're gone
Came the last night of sadness
and it was clear we couldn't go on
The door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew and then disappeared
The curtains flew and then he appeared
Saying don't be afraid
The man sneered at me, any attempt of kindness gone. "Whatever, bitch. Like I'd actually want to get to know the red-eyed freak of town." My glare increased to 'serial killer level' when he mentioned my odd eye color, which people, young and old, made fun of me for years because I had them. The man visibly flinched. "Y-yeah, well…Freak!" Eric took the Chai tea I'd been drinking and poured it all over the AP Bio notes I'd been studying, then strutted away like he owned everything in the world. Sighing, I cleaned up the mess, having to throw away my notes. Come on baby... And we had no fear Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
And she ran to him... Then they started to fly
We looked backward and said goodbye
We had become like they are
She had taken his hand
We had become like they are
As the song ended, I walked out of the building, having no reason to be there any longer, my blood red irises covered by ever-present sunglasses. I started the slow tread back home, which was on the other side of town; it was the only one for miles in any direction. Right then, I just wanted to relax in the tub with one of the Death Note manga's. As I was walking, my ears picked up the sound of footsteps behind me. With my paranoia rampant because of the earlier confrontation, I braced myself for one of the many bullies of my school, or another bible basher trying to 'exorcise' me again.
"Whoever's behind me better turn around right now because I will kick your butt." I threatened as I pivoted around to glare at the supposed person, but no one was there. Not that I could actually do any damage if someone did try to attack me; I couldn't fight and had no sense of coordination. Quickly looking about, I determined that the sound had been in my head. Great time to start hallucinating, Bri. I thought. I glanced down and saw a piece of paper just lying there, so I picked it up, cursing liter bugs. Stupid lazy people can't even pick up a sheet of paper…
The rest of the way held no significant events, unless you count the neighbor's dog eating grass for the millionth time. As I entered my house, my mother yelled over the TV from the living room. "Briana, you're late again!" I glanced at the clock; it was past 11, my curfew.
"Sorry, Mom." I apologized as I skipped into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator. "It took me a long time to walk home—Aha!" A cry of triumph escaped my lips as I held up my prize—a jar of strawberry jam. Unopened. I licked my lips in anticipation of the sweet, sugary substance.
While I was rummaging around in the kitchen, Mom yelled again, not looking up from her shows. "Don't do anything stupid, okay!?" I sighed at the uncaring demand, but didn't expect any better. The last time she showed she cared about me was when a bully broke my arm when I was 12. Mom spent an hour crying her eyes out about how mean the kid's overly religious mother was to her when she called to complain when I was getting my cast.
"Yes, Mom." I rolled my eyes as I raced up the stairs to my room. Mom and I live in a tiny house with only two bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, living room, and two bathrooms for both of us. My room is the one with the black door. I walked in without turning on the light, locked the door behind me, and put my jam on the dresser. Moonlight streamed through the open window and I blinked to give my eyes a chance to adjust to the change of light. Hold on… open?
"Well this is a surprise," a masculine voice said and then I was shoved up against the wall with my mouth covered and my arms pinned. I immediately started thrashing, trying to get free, but the man was too strong. "I wasn't expecting my only child to look almost exactly like me." My eyes widened at his words and I thrashed around even more, trying to scream against his hand. "Oh, you want to scream? Here, I'll help you. Mom!" The man—I couldn't bring myself to call him Dad—cried out in a shrill imitation of my voice then waited for a reply. Nothing. "See? She can't hear me, nor can she see me. Now if I remove my hand, will you be a good girl and behave?" I nodded once, very slowly, and he removed his hand. I stared wide-eyed at him, my temper flaring as my mind registered that he was touching me.
"Who are you!?" I snarled, my nonexistent patience worn thin. My breath caught in my throat as I got my first good look at him.
He was right. I really do look like him. It was like looking into a warped mirror. We were alike, our hair the same flat black and similar in shape, matching pale skin, even our eyes were the identical shade of red. We were even dressed somewhat similar as well—though I wore black, flared pants instead of jeans and wore shoes, we had the same black, long-sleeved shirt. "~Why, sweetheart, I'm your daddy," he said, grinning wickedly. "Why are you afraid of me? It's not like I'd hurt you." He laughed as he took a knife out of his pocket and dragged it across the smooth skin of my cheek, creating a shallow cut.
"Are you really my dad?" I asked, anger near its boiling point.
"~Of course I am, my dear little Briana. Don't you trust your own eyes?"
"What. The. HELL." I hissed, giving 'Dad' my most ferrous glare, something well past the 'serial killer level' used earlier. "Do you think that you can waltz into my life 15 years after raping my mother and expect a hug and a kiss!?"
"Firstly, I didn't 'waltz' into your life. I came in through the window." He shot back in a smartass tone. "Secondly, is that really what Jean's been telling everyone? Honestly, that woman cannot take a one night stand." 'Dad' looked back at the door with a haughty expression. "I was passing through town, and she was trying to get laid, so we spent the night. By morning, I was gone, and now I hear that when Jean found out she was pregnant with you, instead of trying to find me, she told everyone she was raped as an excuse." I shrugged. I hate to say it, but it did sound like something Mom would do; she was flaky in her best moments, hysterical and dramatic in her worst. 'Dad' tilted his head at me and stared. "You seem to have as many mood swings as I do…" He muttered, but I ignored him. Taking a moment to think, I did the math in my head, trying not to attack the man touching me while he still had a knife near my face.
"Wait. This was 15 years ago. You seem like you're 26—"
"I'm actually 29 years old. My face appears younger than I am. But, please, continue. I am curious about your thought process." 'Dad' gave me an extremely creepy smile that I chose to ignore.
"You would have been thirteen when you had sex with my mom."
He threw back his head and laughed in a very terrifying and slightly hysterical way, then stopped to give me a sadistic smile. I would have been shocked at his behavior if I didn't do the exact same thing occasionally. "~Nope… I was 29 then, same as I am now."
Hold the phone… he can't be seen or heard… and he was the same age as he is now? Why does this sound so familiar? I'm sure my face showed my confusion since 'Dad' chuckled.
"Heh…~Having some trouble, little one? Don't worry, I'll tell you…"
"I am what one would call…a Shinigami. My name is Beyond Birthday."
Yes, I'm rewriting this story…you mad, bro? *nervous smile*
It came to my attention that this wasn't nearly as good of a story as it could have been, so I'm now editing it for more character interaction, a better plot, and a more realistic Briana. Those who are now new to the story, don't worry. You're not missing much.