Okay, to tell you the truth, I've been meaning to post this since 2006. Skinner is my first official fanfic character, who has gone through several revisions and has gained her part in the Big Three (now the Big Four with Morgue's induction), my group of my best written serial killers. She has spawned her own original stories and amatuer screenplay and is the most famous among my friends at school. At this point in the story Skinner is 19 and I have yet to decide if it will do a time-skip to when I usually write her (25). By the way, the mortician mentioned at the end of the prologue is Morgan DelRossi (see "The Art of Death"). If you recognize Skinner from a story on another account, that is my old one and is currently in possessed by my cousin, who has yet to take my stories down (I doubt she ever will). The title and the lyrics at the beginning of this are from a Blue Oyster Cult song. Now, let's move on, shall we?

Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize.

It was one of those things you don't quite see
I guess I knew but didn't want to believe
A shine in her hair
And steel in her eyes
Only nineteen and impossibly wise

The rain was pouring down heavily, hitting the battered Ford truck and producing heavy, tinny sounds. Young Jaqoline Blackguard stared dismally out of the windshield from the passenger's seat and watched the wipers slide back and forth in front of her. She glanced momentarily as her father, a burly man in his late 40s with graying hair and dog tags around his neck, before returning her attention back to the road. The farmhouse came into view and the truck clambered into the drive, jostling the two occupants around. The engine shut off and Skinner – as she was known to most people – pulled the hood of her black rain jacket over her head. The father and daughter pair ran blindly to up the steps of the house and pounded on the door. Skinner shifted her weight from foot to foot as if she had to pee. The door opened and the two of them stepped inside, shaking the rain off themselves.

"Jackie" - the woman cringed at the nickname - "How nice of you to come." She stiffened as the blond cowboy embraced her. "Hello, Mr. Blackguard. How have you been?"

The elder man grunted before answering, "Fine. Thanks for askin', Tex." Said man released Skinner in favor of holding her hand. "So, can we come in?"

"Oh, yes, please do." He smiled pleasantly and led them to the family room where the others were already gathered. It annoyed Skinner that Tex was so friendly, almost naïve, and that he was the very embodiment of a Southern gentleman. He was always so neat and proper and it practically made her sick to her stomach.

"Mr. Blackguard, Jaqoline," Luda May greeted. Skinner remained still, half hidden behind her father, and only inclined her head the slightest in salutation. "To what do we owe...the pleasure of your visit?" The young woman's eyes trailed up to her father's face.

"I'm going out of town for a little while," Mr. Blackguard explained and Skinner knew that little while could very well mean years. "So, I would like to entrust my daughter to you during my absence. Is...that alright?"

Luda May smiled, even if she did look a little displeased. "Of course." She regarded Skinner for a moment. "Hoyt, get Jaqoline's things out of the truck."

The sheriff stood. "Of course, Mama. Anything for a lady." He gave a wicked smile and Skinner watched his warily, ready to attack should her do anything unjust. Hoyt disappeared into the rain.

Mr. Blackguard cleared his throat, "Now, is our deal final?" He placed a hand on Skinner's shoulder and she jumped a bit before looking up at him. "Bye, Jack." She said nothing in return but her eyes followed him until he was out of view. The door opened and shut with a bang. She stared in its direction for a bit until the arrival of the sheriff disrupted her gaze.

"There you go," Hoyt said shortly, dropping the ragged suitcase beside her. Skinner looked at it for a moment and then looked up at him. "What?" She picked up the bag after shaking her head furiously.

"C'mon, dear," Luda May began, lightly grabbing Skinner's arm and leading her toward the stairs. "I'll show you to your room." The elderly woman opened a door on the second level and gestured for the girl to enter. She walked in cautiously, subtly raising a brow at the pink walls and overall "girly" appearance. "I'll leave you to unpack," the woman said before shutting the door behind her. Skinner laid her suitcase on the bed and pulled open one of the drawers of the white bureau. She filed her clothes away automatically – summer stuff, winter stuff, night stuff- and tucked the suitcase into the closet, preferring to save that space for nicer things she didn't want to get wrinkled.

Skinner frowned as she settled on the pink bedding, hanging her raincoat off the bedpost to dry. Her eyes wandered over the pink and white décor before settling on a child's tea table. A white tea set was arranged on it, the gold accents dulled with age. She slid off the bed and crawled over to it, picking up one of the porcelain cups and wiping the dust off with her fingers. There was a brief knock at the door and Tex entered. Skinner stared up at him blankly.

"Hey, Jackie," he greeted, settling next to her on the hardwood floor. "Whatcha doin'?" She held out the cup and arched a brow. "Oh, that." He draped an arm over her shoulders before continuing. "Ma always wanted a daughter, but all she had were sons. We made this room in case, but when 'that' happened and then she died, it sort of became useless. No one's touched it, not even Luda May. And now you're here!" His voice became cheery and he gripped her in an impossible tight hug. "Little sister. That's so cute!" Skinner's eyes rolled. If anything, she'd come to the decision that she was his romantic interest and Alfredo and Hoyt's sexual fantasy. She slapped her palm against his forehead and he released her with a chuckle. "Alright, I'll leave you alone." He left and Skinner laid the cup back on the table.

Skinner contemplated for a moment. Twelve years ago she'd been in her first taxidermy contest, a few years later had earned her state-wide reputation, she'd had a time in her life as a mortician's assistant, and now this. Was this the way it was, slipping down the rung of horror? Living with a family of homicidal cannibals – what new culture shock was she going to experience now? They used to be just family friends that she saw on business trips with her father, with whom she sat in the yard and tossed a ball around or fixed a car or some other mundane thing. She'd become one of them, she knew it.

The problem was that she didn't care.