Written by M.A.G
Email: Gypsyroo@aol.com
Disclaimer: The Pretender and its characters aren't mine, never were and never will be.
Note: This was written before I saw the Inner Sense I and II and Pretender 2000, so there are some inconsistencies. The only reason I decided to make Miss Parker's name Melissa because of its meaning which I needed for the story, and it just happens to be my name also :) Personally, if I were to choose her first name, it wouldn't be Melissa.
Rating: PG- one or two not so nice words. Hey, whaddya expect, it's Miss Parker!
Thanks: to my lil "sis" Chantelle for beta-ing!!! :)
~~~~~~~~
.Melissa.
I stand just outside the crowded train station. A man in a pin striped suit with an oversized attache case clumsily bumps into me. "Watch it, asshole!" I yell. I am annoyed by the close proximity of what seems to be the hustle and bustle of the entire world before me.
I crinkle my nose, the acrid stench of trash wafting over from a large Dumpster yards away. An attractive man, the wall street type, takes a long lingering glance at me. I smile wanly. I'm looking for a man, but not just any man. I'm looking for more in life.
My world is standing still. I scan the crowd, looking, searching. Scanning for a face I know too well and want to forget. At the same time, I want to ensure that it is ever imprinted in my heart and mind. The faintest trace of the little girl I used to be, and her fascination and love for Jarod creeps up on me from time to time, but I shoo her away.
"Melissa!"
Someone shouts my name. It almost sounds like him. Jarod wouldn't be so stupid to reveal himself, especially since he knows I'm armed and he's not. Then again, I know he doubts my ability to hit my target when it comes to him. He doesn't think I would pull my gun with so many people there. Maybe he's right. Too many witnesses. I smirk.
Melissa would take a second thought before pulling the trigger. I wouldn't. I automatically turn around. Of course, they are not calling me. It's not really my name anymore. It hasn't been for a long time, and it never will be again. I am not myself. Melissa Catherine Parker is dead. Dead and buried long ago. That innocent, naive little girl is gone. I'm a big girl now. I'm a changed woman. I'm a bitch. Cold, cunning, apathetic Miss Parker is here to stay.
Melissa, in a way, is a fitting name. It's origin from Greek, meaning honey or bee. Sweet, but I can sting without warning. Stinging is what I do best. Poison. Stealthy and deadly, a vampire. Honey. Oh, I can be sweet and turn on the charm to get what I want just as easily as I can crush a man's windpipe. I hate sap. It attracts pesky flies which I swat away after I've had my fun. I much rather be vinegar. My acid tongue, bitter and sharp. I push away all those who have ever cared or wanted to but I wouldn't–couldn't let them.
No one has called me Melissa since my mother died. Appropriate, as Melissa died on that day with her. My soul was murdered along with my mother's. I was forced to grow up in an instant. I could only cry and grieve when I was alone. Daddy's Little Angel was strong. Daddy's Little Angel never cried. But, I'm not Daddy's Little Angel anymore. In fact, I'm no angel at all.
He tried to turn me into the son he never had, but always wanted. Now he had two, my twin, psychotic Mr. Lyle and little, baby Damian. I see the pride in his eyes as he looks at his male offspring. Proud because his son is a serial killer and Little Damian sprouted his first tooth.
The look in my father's eyes is far different when he looks at me. I can't pinpoint what it is exactly. Is it shame? Fear? Disappointment? In a way, I think I scare my father. I look exactly like my mother. I am a constant reminder. I am both a reminder of his failure as a husband and a failure of a child. No matter how hard I try, I can never compete. No matter how hard I pretend to be someone else, he always reminds me that I am only his daughter. I am only Melissa.
********
(Feedback, any and all appreciated.Thanks:) )
Email: Gypsyroo@aol.com
Disclaimer: The Pretender and its characters aren't mine, never were and never will be.
Note: This was written before I saw the Inner Sense I and II and Pretender 2000, so there are some inconsistencies. The only reason I decided to make Miss Parker's name Melissa because of its meaning which I needed for the story, and it just happens to be my name also :) Personally, if I were to choose her first name, it wouldn't be Melissa.
Rating: PG- one or two not so nice words. Hey, whaddya expect, it's Miss Parker!
Thanks: to my lil "sis" Chantelle for beta-ing!!! :)
~~~~~~~~
.Melissa.
I stand just outside the crowded train station. A man in a pin striped suit with an oversized attache case clumsily bumps into me. "Watch it, asshole!" I yell. I am annoyed by the close proximity of what seems to be the hustle and bustle of the entire world before me.
I crinkle my nose, the acrid stench of trash wafting over from a large Dumpster yards away. An attractive man, the wall street type, takes a long lingering glance at me. I smile wanly. I'm looking for a man, but not just any man. I'm looking for more in life.
My world is standing still. I scan the crowd, looking, searching. Scanning for a face I know too well and want to forget. At the same time, I want to ensure that it is ever imprinted in my heart and mind. The faintest trace of the little girl I used to be, and her fascination and love for Jarod creeps up on me from time to time, but I shoo her away.
"Melissa!"
Someone shouts my name. It almost sounds like him. Jarod wouldn't be so stupid to reveal himself, especially since he knows I'm armed and he's not. Then again, I know he doubts my ability to hit my target when it comes to him. He doesn't think I would pull my gun with so many people there. Maybe he's right. Too many witnesses. I smirk.
Melissa would take a second thought before pulling the trigger. I wouldn't. I automatically turn around. Of course, they are not calling me. It's not really my name anymore. It hasn't been for a long time, and it never will be again. I am not myself. Melissa Catherine Parker is dead. Dead and buried long ago. That innocent, naive little girl is gone. I'm a big girl now. I'm a changed woman. I'm a bitch. Cold, cunning, apathetic Miss Parker is here to stay.
Melissa, in a way, is a fitting name. It's origin from Greek, meaning honey or bee. Sweet, but I can sting without warning. Stinging is what I do best. Poison. Stealthy and deadly, a vampire. Honey. Oh, I can be sweet and turn on the charm to get what I want just as easily as I can crush a man's windpipe. I hate sap. It attracts pesky flies which I swat away after I've had my fun. I much rather be vinegar. My acid tongue, bitter and sharp. I push away all those who have ever cared or wanted to but I wouldn't–couldn't let them.
No one has called me Melissa since my mother died. Appropriate, as Melissa died on that day with her. My soul was murdered along with my mother's. I was forced to grow up in an instant. I could only cry and grieve when I was alone. Daddy's Little Angel was strong. Daddy's Little Angel never cried. But, I'm not Daddy's Little Angel anymore. In fact, I'm no angel at all.
He tried to turn me into the son he never had, but always wanted. Now he had two, my twin, psychotic Mr. Lyle and little, baby Damian. I see the pride in his eyes as he looks at his male offspring. Proud because his son is a serial killer and Little Damian sprouted his first tooth.
The look in my father's eyes is far different when he looks at me. I can't pinpoint what it is exactly. Is it shame? Fear? Disappointment? In a way, I think I scare my father. I look exactly like my mother. I am a constant reminder. I am both a reminder of his failure as a husband and a failure of a child. No matter how hard I try, I can never compete. No matter how hard I pretend to be someone else, he always reminds me that I am only his daughter. I am only Melissa.
********
(Feedback, any and all appreciated.Thanks:) )