God I am a retard --' So my computer crashed and I am using my mothers laptop. Stories will be short and contain….erm not so 'romantic scenes' until I have my own to safely save them on. I recently saw Behind the Mask and quite liked the weirdo twisted thing going on with Leslie and Taylor. So my demented noggin came up with this. I intend to continue it with at least another chapter. Spoilers. Taylor is in italitcs, Leslie is in bold.

Through the Looking Glass

"You love her, don't you?"

Taylor, how could you ask me that? Of course I do. But I cannot admit that to you now, oh no. It's to soon, something of that nature must wait until the sequel.

"I love the….idea, of her"

The idea of you.

What I love, at the moment, is our reflections. The way hers is a reflection of beauty, of innocence. Taylor sit's like an innocent too. With her legs pulled up in some kind of fetal position, with her childish pre-teen hair. Like she just got back from her first 'slumber party'. I dislike the cookie-cutter blondes. With skimpy skirts and a closet like a pink explosion. All tiny little bimbos. But Taylor is smart, she's bright…not TO bright of course. But just enough to be interesting. She's pretty, in an almost ugly way. She doesn't dress to impress, she has no reason to. I like that about her, I like the pretty things mixed with the ugly.

Our reflections are that. Something starkly pretty with something starkly ugly. The makeup is an..added effect. Should one of the bimbos or her play toy try to see who's behind the mask. Dark circles shielding my eyes, and pale blue covering my lips. It makes me look cold and frozen. I am pleased that Taylor doesn't seem upset with me. I was afraid this..appearance might make her unnerved .

Oh how strong she must be, she has to. Working her way through college essays and whores sleeping with the News Director. But she made it out alive, she's working her way to the top, forcing herself to keep up without giving up her own morals. She's perfect.

"Leslie?"

What a piss ass girly name…I wish I had some sort of…strong deep name. Full of bravado and strength! But no…I get..Leslie. Figures.

"Huh?"

I didn't turn around to her, Just looked at her reflection in the mirror. Poor Alice, lost in the Looking Glass, which way is up? And will you find it out of the rabbit hole.

"What's that gunk?"

Taylor pointed at the slightly green tinted gel like concoction, which was now being applied as a top coating across my face. It was cold, like putting mint in your mouth and chewing at the leaf.

"Flame retardant gel."

Smart girl she was, I am sure I'd need it for the future.

"Tired, Taylor?"

Poor little thing, looks so sleepy . Ready to crash for the night.

She'll be running soon. I could catch her, easily. But no….I cannot damage her to much. That would ruin her. Ruin us.

"No!"

She stood instantly, defensive. Tired but trying to fight her way through it.

"Come"

I gathered my rucksack, climbing up into the hay loft.

"See it Taylor? It's perfect"

The Apple tree's fully matured, offering their fruits. The great expanse of land, all full of traps, trip wires, and sawn off tree branches. Cheating? No…think of it as steroids for the weight lifter.

"So…your really gonna do it?"

"Course I am…it's my night."

It's our night. She'll find It soon enough. But at the right time, she must pity the dead. Hate me. It hurt's really. Knowing she has to…I tried not to you know. Tried not to get to close. Watch her from far enough that emotional ties where kept at a minimum. Like the farmer raising it's lambs for the slaughter house. But during an interview ..it can be difficult not to have some kind of.. closeness. Though her two piss ass friends where around, it was hard not to forget their existence.

She commands attention without knowing. I fear I've gotten to close, I've given the lamb a personality, I've named it and cradled it. Given to much love and affection for it to grow and blossom. Now I've grown to care for it. For her. Damned it.

We're so close right now. I can see the cold in her face, her cheeks turning pink from it. If I listen close enough, I can hear her heat beating. Slow and even, unaffected by the events ready to unfold. If your ready then. Deeper into the rabbit hole we'll climb.

--

The sound is similar to drowning.

When a throat is slashed.

A soft gurgle, as they gasp for air in vain. But that's what they get. A brief moment of sexual pleasure, and the pain. It didn't hurt…not to much. The blood loss would be instant and pain minimal. Not that I cared, but it was for Taylor. To save her some vague amount of distress. No screaming, no cries for mercy. I cannot give that much to her to soon. Build her up first, make her strong. Make her proud.

And with the tiniest droplets of blood on my front I return behind the curtain to her. Quickly, clean the blade off before the blood dries and it rusts. Perhaps I took it to far the first time for her..she's panting in the corner. Her hand grasping at the wall deafly. But I have to..I have to make her scared. I need her to doubt me. Taylor must want to save these people. Soon, the story will belong to her and she must be of the right mind to continue it.

I watch her, in fake confusion. But I am getting to close. I am touching her hands…she's so warm. So scared, like the lambs being hoarded off to the slaughter house.

"Taylor? Shh…Calm down."

I want her to….I want to make her feel safe. I want to make her fear disappear. But this is not within the plans. I cannot comfort her and have her stay far from the blood and death. She has to be within it, she has to earn her life. Earn it Taylor, prove to me your mine.

--

So brave.

I knew she was mine. I knew she'd win. I just need to give her the space to spread her wings and grow.

Pity, the medical examiner should die. But of course, a sequel is always in order when the female lead escapes.

This is only the start. Now that I know she is mine, I have to go collect her.

It was easy, escaping the hick town. No one gives a shit about anything. Someone dies and there isn't an explanation? Call it suicide. I would have liked to send flowers to the Window and her children.

I can send flowers to Taylor.

It's on my to do list. But first I must return home, I have turtles to feed you know.

I need a rest anyway. It was a tiring night. Just one good rest. Then I can find her. She'll have to forgive me if I bring roses.

Comments. Flames. Free cookies. All welcome thank you. Yes, Leslie is a bit OOC. But I don't really give a shit X He's mine in this fan fiction so you can shove it. Next chapter will be mostly Taylor's POV. Because typing the name 'Leslie' is extremely entertaining.