Evangeline
I press my face hard against the cracked, cold mirror. Again I wake up from the same, reoccurring nightmare. Shutting my eyes to block out the thought, I slid a wash rag under the cool water of the faucet and dab at my face. My eyes are overly glassy, red orbs, dripping salty wet puddles into the sink. I need sleep.
Back when I was 10, I was still so innocent. My long blonde curls bounced around my waste as Annabelle Marie and I took turns on the slide in the old park. She would always ask me to come over to her house, and although I really did want to, I would usually get nervous and make up some stupid excuse. I regret it now more than anything in the world. Anna always told me we would be best friends forever, not matter what.
I wish I would have asked her to come over and have dinner, asked her to ride with me home that night. But I didn't, and now I'm looking into the mirror at a girl I do not know.
"Evangeline?" I ask myself, trying to bring the old me out of this cocoon I have created.
The next morning, I awake to a lack of sleep. Its early autumn. The trees are full of color and there is a light breeze, pushing loose blonde strands of hair around my face. I am sitting on the grass when suddenly; the wind carries the sweet sound of Concertino to my spot under the big oak tree. The notes flow like honey in the summer morning, no broken ones escape the glorious instrument. I cannot help myself, so I stand and brush off the leaves that have gathered into a small pile on my lap. I follow the sound around my neighborhood, as I round the east section, the tune begins to speed up and I can feel the sound vibrating through the stone walk below. I can see him now, the wonderful composer of this amazing tune. His crimson eyes are emotionless and his long dark hair cascades over his face. The flute he is holding is black and silver and looks as though it has recently been polished; the initials etched into one of the valves read "A.V." The beautiful sound abruptly stops and I look up in surprise to meet those red eyes burning into my own.
"Hello dear," his voice is smooth and longing, but it sounds as if it's one hundred miles away.
"H-Hi," I am unsure of myself. My feet are shaking and I feel like I should just run away right now, before something bad happens.
He smirks and sets the beautiful black instrument in its case and looks back at me. His eyes hold mine hostage for what feels like an eternity.
"Do you like it?" he asks, "I have been practicing it for quite a while now."
I am frozen. My body has become so weak from what seems to be a mix of embarrassment and fear. He is gorgeous, there is no denying this, but my brain is screaming for me to leave as fast as I can.
"I-I think I should go home now." I manage to stutter out before turning to flee this uncomfortable scene. I have to pry my feet out of the spot they have rooted themselves in.
"Come back and play with me sometime," he coos. I blush like mad and take off for home. My heart is pounding so hard that I have to press my hand against my chest to keep it from bursting out and leaving a trail of blood behind me.
Seven days later, I have trouble sleeping again. This time, however, it is for a totally new reason. That boy was beautiful, perfect in every way I could imagine. I want to hear him play again; I could have listened to that flute for the rest of my life. My eyes feel so heavy but it is as if sleep is inexistent, why is he doing this to me?
I'm late again! Why don't I just face the facts, I will never be able to make it to school on time. Rushing into the bathroom, I quickly tie my curly blonde hair into a pony tail with a little pink ribbon.
"Mom, I'm going to have to skip out on breakfast this morning!" I call out as race down the stairs. My mother is standing amongst a pile of dishes and a sink full of soapy water; she doesn't even look up when I enter.
"Late as always," she sighs as I run out the front door. Annabelle and I use to walk to school together every day. I still have a hard time believing it has already been two years since that day. We were both sixteen and we thought we were invincible. We would often drive 80 just to feel the adrenaline rush that accompanied it. I haven't done anything like that since the day she left, I hardly even see any of our old friends anymore either. I was Annabelle's closest friend; no one else knew where she was that night.
"Evangeline Thomas?" the teacher reads my name off the attendance chart. When did I even get to class? I brush the blonde strands out of my eyes and stare out the window. Mrs. Amber just rambles on.
At lunch I get the usual, an apple, a bag of chips, and a cup of lemonade. I sit at a table with a few other clique-less stragglers. Biting into the apple, I spare a glance at the surrounding student body. Some are sucking down spaghetti, some flipping bottle caps at one another, and some are sitting in the far corner with their tongues in each other's mouths. Suddenly, my mind wanders off to thoughts flute boy and I wonder to myself if maybe he goes to school here. I want to hear him play once again, I don't think I can handle one more day without the perfect melody he has given me. Standing up, I dump my half eaten apple in the trash.
The end of the day comes fairly quickly, I am sitting in the same spot I was that day I first heard him. The leaves have begun to pile up more and more, signaling that winter is coming up shortly. This time, I pay close attention to every stirring sound in the surrounding neighborhood, jumping up at every whisper of a noise. The wind is whirling faster now that it is getting late so I hunch my shoulders up in an awkward position so that my neck is covered. Annabelle had taught me to do this the night I caught a bad cold and had to be out of school for three days. I had laughed at her for hunching her shoulders up like that, but she ended up being the one who really got the last laugh.
Suddenly, as if reflecting on my memories, I hear the solemn melody of the instrument that I have come to adore. I shoot up and take off in the direction that I had found him last time. As I approach the building, I look for something to hide behind so that he won't notice me this time. It is dark now, so it isn't too hard to stay out of sight range. The soft sound is soothing and I can feel the vibration through the stone pillar that I am hiding behind. His hair seems like it has grown almost an inch since I last saw him, but I know that couldn't happen in just a week. His eyes are closed and he sways ever so slightly with the tune. I can't take it anymore, my eyes begin to droop and my brain starts to shut down. The music stops but I am already fast asleep.
It's so dark now. I feel around and find that I am lying on a bed that cannot possible be mine.
"Hello?!" I yell "Where am I?" I frantically search my surroundings for anything that looks remotely familiar.
"You're finally awake," a soothing male voice acknowledges my question. I recognize the voice almost before he's even done speaking; flute boy.
I scan the room and find him leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes are closed.
"Wh-What am I doing here?"
He smirks, "You came to me, remember?"
I think back to how I had fallen asleep listening to him play. He must have carried me to this room, but how did he know I was there?
"Well," I begin, "I guess I should be going home now, my mother is probably really worried, but thanks a lot for being so kind." I hold my hand out and shake his. When I try to pull away, he does not let go.
"U-Umm...I really need to go."I try hard to yank my hand away but his firm grip is much too strong, his eyes are still closed.
"Honey," he says, tightening his grip slightly. His skin is so pale but amazingly soft for a guy. "Won't you stay just a little longer? I do enjoy company." His smirk grows wider and his eyelids slowly begin to open. What I see frightens me more than the fact that he is holding me against my will. His eyes are not the same shade of red now, they are so bright that they are almost glowing in the nearly pitch black room. I gasp and try to back away from him but he does not let go. He pulls me closer and closer until his face is inches away, "Don't be afraid," his voice breathes relief into my ear, it migrates throughout my entire body and it is as if I have never been afraid of anything. His breathe moves from my ear down to my neck. I open my eyes to see he is directly in front of me, his eyes closed once again. His lips inch closer to mine, I am not at all afraid and so I entangle my fingers into those long dark locks and press my lips against his. He pushes his body closer to mine and deepens the kiss roughly. We are now tangled in one another and I pull away to breathe.
That smirk is still plastered on his face, "Ahh so you do not remember me…"
I give him a puzzled look, "What? I know you?"
"Not well, it was a few years ago, I'm just glad I found you."
He runs his fingers through my hair, "Annabelle Marie was such a beautiful girl…and so innocent."
"What do you know about my Annabelle?!" I snap.
He chuckles, although this is clearly not the time, "Your Annabelle? You really think so?" He glances out the window, "That night, two years ago. You were beautiful and your scent was just as delicious as it is now." He peers beck into my eyes and continues, "You told Anna you needed to go home for dinner, she told you she planned to walk home and you went to leave, that's when I came into the picture." He smiles, "I greeted you as I passed you on the path, those beautiful blonde locks of yours flowing in the wind." He twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers.
"What happened to Anna?" I plead, tears welling up in my eyes.
"I did what I always do, I played my flute. She came to me, just as you have come now."
"W-What do you mean?
"Be patient E-V-A-N-G-E-L-I-N-E," he speaks my name slowly. Although I have no idea how he knows it, I am too shocked to even care.
"Anyways, Anna came to me and I took her up to this very room." He looks around as if he's seeing the room at a different time. "She never came home, did she?" His smile turns crooked and he licks his lips.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER YOU PIG?!" I scream and try to slap the look off his face, but he catches my hand easily.
"Do you know what I am Evangeline?" he asks in his sweetest voice.
I take a deep breath, "You're a monster."
"Yes, I am a monster." He laughs a maniacal laugh that screams out his insanity. He moves his face close to mine but I am too shocked to move away.
"You were my target Evangeline, but I could not wait any longer, I needed it immediately," he whispers, "but I have come back for you now my darling." The last thing I see is the sneer on his face before he lowers us onto the floor so that he is lying on top of me. His mouth is on my neck and I struggle, my screams are muffled by his pale hand over my mouth. Suddenly, my neck is burning. No, not just burning, it's on fire! I begin to cry and try even harder to push him off of me, but my body is becoming much too weak. Liquid is now rolling down my left arm; I place my trembling hand on it and lift it to my eyes. Red.
He lifts his head up and blood is dripping from his mouth, my blood, "Goodnight, beautiful." He whispers.