My Sweet Doves, I have returned! I bring goodies for you! I probably (unfortunately) will not post as rapidly as before. After much deliberation with my tech director, I have decided to volunteer my time to his shop because my school screwed him as horribly as they did me. So, he fights to get me back in, and I work for free for the moment. Yippee.
Huge thank you to Rebel Maineiac for the story idea. *kisses*
Enjoy!
Songs: God Help Me by Emilie Autumn
Her smile. It's wide and bright. Though the lines around her mouth and eyes have become more pronounced, that beautiful smile still brightens her face. She's changed so much. Moved on. Forgotten. Healed. She's let her sins go, accepted her shortcomings, her darkness.
She's laughing now, and it trickles down my spine, slips around my mind as though no time has passed. Her laugh, once a welcomed sound, now only hurts. It reminds me of the great loss I've suffered. I loved her once. Perhaps as a sister, a friend. How had someone so naïve and innocent become something so evil?
Her lover doesn't think she's evil. She's smiling up at her like a lovesick fool, either completely oblivious or uncaring of the people weaving around them. They'd endured so much together, healed each other. She flips her hair as she walks away and offers the other woman a suggestive smile over her shoulder. Her hair has grown long and beautiful, a glimpse of the young girl so full of innocence. Had she reclaimed that within herself?
Her lover melts and chases after her, loose hair blowing in the wind. They kiss. It is supposed to be beautiful, passionate. Perhaps to some, it is.
It makes me sick.
The scar on her chest plays peek-a-boo beneath her shirt, and my anger grows. They all have them. The four whores of Storybrooke don brands upon their chests. They wear them like badges of honor, as if the world should bow at their feet because they sacrificed their pound of flesh in the pursuit of heroism.
Murderers. All of them.
Perhaps if they hadn't made so many enemies, the world wouldn't require saving all the time. I hate them all, her entire unlikely family. The wolf and the witch and the savior and the librarian and the seer and the succubus and the brilliant potions mistress, even the sniveling brats and parents.
I'll make them all suffer for what she did. They deserve punishment. Her loyal friends condone her abhorrent behavior, forgive her transgressions as though she never destroyed lives with her wickedness.
She walks right by me. She doesn't remember. Why should she? I catch a whiff of her shampoo. She still smells good after all these years, different than I remember but delicious as ever. She'll never see me coming until it's too late.
Cora couldn't stop them. Pan failed miserably. Poor Zelena came closest to victory. They killed them all rather than relinquish their power, admit their heinous crimes. They were all powerful magical beings, and they failed. But I am nothing. A nobody. On the outside, I'm innocent, human, normal.
I will destroy her.