Elizabeth Carter was a very private person. She paid the rent, more or less on time because she was still here and the landlord was very strict, she ordered pizza on a regular basis, frequently argued with the delivery guy about prices,(arguments that usually ended in a passionate kiss) and was never seen, if at all without a pair of long scarlet high heeled boots.
She was hardly ever seen in daylight and mainly wore black, which lead to the ridiculous rumour that she was a vampire, feared by all the young children many of whom accepted the dare to knock on the door of the den where she lay in wait, and if it was opened, that meant they were doomed to die. Many wild and wonderful tales were told about how they had actually ventured inside, and seen the extravagant stone sarcophagus and her body inside, black leather, fangs and all. The children who claimed this were of course instantly popular and their stories became legend. Their parents listened as they sat with the coffee and chocolate cake, exchanging knowing and amused glances.
However, they knew something was wrong with that woman. No-one had even the tiniest inkling of where she had come from or what she did for a living and as far as anyone knew she had no friends, only those granted the privilege of an uninterested 'Hello' in the dank and dark corridors separating the equally dark and dank rooms of the apartments that she lived in. And those children. . .they were even stranger.
She was a beautiful woman who had caught the eye of many men. She had dark, smooth skin, huge, expressive grey eyes and big, pouty pink lips, a startling contrast to her shining red curls. She always had been good looking, going from adorable, to cute, to pretty, to completely beautiful and what was more, she knew it and she loved it.
She lost her virginity at the age of thirteen when she had hit puberty early and the boys in the class had suddenly realised, 'Hey, she's a girl' and once she had woken up, couldn't even remember his name by the following night. From that point on, her life spun out of control, in a downward spiral of drink drugs and sex, causing her parents to become withdrawn and ashamed of the little girl they had once cherished above all else.
When she was six-teen she ran away, wanting to live life in the big city, without rules or regulations and without the smothering of her parents. She soon discovered that independence meant you had to else had to cook the food, you had to pay the rent and you also had to pay the bills. By the end of her first month, she was living solely on pot noodle and her electricity had been cut.
Six months later she was pregnant due to another one night stand, this one more unusual than any other, giving birth to twin baby girls seven months later. For better or for worse, they were nothing like her in appearance or in personality. The only resemblance Elizabeth shared with them was their dark skin. Crimson and Ciera's eyes were a slightly dark shade of turquoise, their hair so blond it was almost white.
After another nine, she was a monster. Not like those in well-worn paperbacks, with fiery breath, sharp claws and fierce teeth. But one of those women who didn't give a damn about what they did to get their next fix, as long as they got it, sleeping to whoever offered the most and beating her kids to near death because she made a mistake, because of who she slept with. Before Crimson and Ciera's fourth birthday, they had lost their charming youthfulness. Gone were the beaming smiles and innocent laughter because even as children they knew.
They could only have one kind of life and not a single person could be bothered to even try and do anything about it.
Tonight was one of those nights where no-one in the apartment block slept. Hysterical shrieks punctured the midnight silence, followed by petrified yelps and sickening slapping sounds. Throughout the building, residents buried their heads in their pillows praying to any god that would listen. Some stayed up to do the crosswords, drank cocoa, did the washing or the ironing and most simply turned the TV up as loud as they could. Children were brought into their parent's bed where their hair was stroked and they were told lovely stories of princesses in towers and brave knights that defeated the baddies to drown out the screaming coming from above.
CIERA'S POV
'FREAK'
Ciera gave a startled yelp as the palm of her mother's hand made contact with her cheek. The force was so great; it snapped her head to side and back so it hit the wall that she was leaning on. Ciera knew that was going to bruise, which was great, now she could have a matching set. It would go with the ones marring her chest and those circling her biceps. Yay.
She couldn't even remember what she had done this time. Mom had come in, taken off one shoe, chucked it at Ciera's head and had then proceeded to go completely bananas. It got a little bit blurry from there, a swirling Picasso of blood and fists and pain.
Eyes defiant, Ciera spat blood, aiming it perfectly so it landed in her mom's smirking face. The smirk disappeared, one corner of her mouth raised in an ugly sneer, raising one track marked wrist and hand and wiping at her eye, ringing it away and looking in disgust at the scarlet sludge, thickened by saliva marring her skin her eyes smouldering with rage.
Ciera's Mom turned and bent, retrieving from a tangle of wood and shattered glass, a mostly together table leg. It was surprisingly heavy, and splinted at the end and in her mom's grip, hands slightly trembling as always it looked as if it belonged there. Ciera tried to keep her face blank and devoid of all emotion. But she her body betrayed her, she felt her breath quicken, her eyes widen. Ciera saw the look of twisted amusement marring her mom's deceptively lovely face and knew her mom saw her daughter's eyes spark with terror and the pleasure it seemed to bring her made Ciera subconsciously move even further against the wall.
As she saw her Mom raise the wood and felt goose bumps rack her body like she had been dumped in an ice-cold bath Ciera honestly thought this was the end.
'I can't believe it' she thought to herself. 'Everything I've been through, everything I've survived I'm going to be clobbered to death by a bloody table leg from the coffee table!' And then a familiar figure came into her vision, Crimson, Ciera's twin sister, sitting up groggily, her unfocussed eyes taking in the scene before her.
Ciera could practically see the images flick through Crimson's mind. Mom standing over her with the bloody log, raised and ready to bash her head in. Ciera saw her twin's eyes widen and then narrow, saw the fury ignite and watched in astonished disbelief as Crimson gave a feral snarl of rage, stagger to her feet and rugby tackle their mother to the floor somehow in one fluid movement.
That was Crimson. All fists and fight rather that retreat and safety. They were different like that. Crimson's hair was in tight spiral curls whilst Ciera's was ramrod straight.
Momentarily stunned, their mom quickly retaliated, driving a knee into Crimson's stomach and a fist into her face. Outraged, Ciera jumped in on the pile, piggy-back style, locking her skinny arms around the slender neck and squeezing. They had forgotten about the club. Elizabeth rolled over, grabbed the discarded wooded weapon and swung it. Crimson only saw the colourless blur, and heard the sickening crunch as it made contact. Crimson's eyes rolled back and she became as boneless as a super noodle, slumping in a heap on the floor.
Ciera crawled to her sister's prone form, not aware of her Mom's cruel, uncaring sniff or insane cackle of laughter that echoed of the thin walls.
Crimson's hair was slowly turning pink and sodden with blood. Ciera's hands hovered uselessly over her, not sure of what they were doing. The brain was not sending them orders due to the fact that IT WASN'T WORKING! There was also the fact she seemed to have swallowed concrete as there was a solid pain in her throat and her eyes were blurry, something hot running down her face.
Ciera slapped herself over the head, wiping at her eyes.
'Get over yourself girl' she told herself sternly. 'Crimson needs you, you cannot fall apart'
There was one thing she could do. She didn't like doing it, but she had been left with no other option
Nervously, Ciera placed a hand over the place where the blood seemed to be coming from, resisting the urge to empty her stomach when she felt how the skull had caved in. She didn't think Crimson would appreciate it if she woke u covered in regurgitated 'choc full of popcorn'
Ciera hesitated. What she was about to do was the reason their mother hated them so much. Well one of the reasons they had been told. The freaky gifts, their father, the dyslexia, (like she gave adman about their marks) ADHD and forever being stalked by creepy dudes with only one eye.
Crimson was better at this. She'd had more practise. Crimson could never keep her big mouth shut, resulting in far more pains and sores than her sister, resulting in the apparent ease that she could do it with, to herself and to others.
But seeing how she was unconscious with a probable brain injury and most positively almost definitely dying, the responsibility now belonged to Ciera. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the shattered pulp that was her sister's head, glad that she could no longer see the blood covering her hands like gloves, and concentrated on summoning the power that lingered under her skin, humming and vibrating. When she opened them again she inhaled shakily, amazed at the impossible sight before her.
Her hands were glowing. The horrible red was now gone, replaced by gold, similar to that of candle light, but a zillion times stronger and brighter. It illuminated the whole room, the dull grey becoming silver, Crimson's body a slightly darker shadow in the centre. When the glow finally abated and Ciera was able to lower her hands from where they had been shielding her eyes.
Exactly two hours later, Crimson opened her eyes with a loud gasp, at the same time sat up, her messy curls now coloured pink hanging in her face making her seem that bit more wild. Her eyes seemed to search every shadow, every corner for a potential attacker.
Then Crimson felt her head, combing back the tangles, her panic draining, turning into panic. Then she glared full force at her sister, clearly asking mentally, 'How the hell did the agony of being walloped by a hefty bit of wood turn into a pleasant tingling sensation?'
'You know how' Ciera replied irritably, sounding tired even to her own ears.
Crimson's mouth dropped open, in a weird combination of admiration, and shock.
'You idiot' she yelled, making Ciera jump. She got to her feet, starting to pace the room. Ciera was beginning to feel a tad annoyed. The least she could have done was say thank you or sorry. She had been terrified back there. Crimson's blood had covered her hands like paint and all her sister had done so fare was glare and yell.
'No need to thank me or anything' she said dryly. 'And you cannot say anything about being idiotic to me! You were the one who decided to tackle the female equivalent of Godzilla!'
'If I didn't do that, you would be starring in CSI as the murder victim!'
'And if I didn't try to heal you, you'd be a vegetable!'
'And if you had failed it would be a double homicide!'
Crimson collapsed on the filthy sofa, feeling the springs crack and creak, burying her face in her hands and rubbing her eyes wearily. Ciera was struck suddenly, on how old they both acted and how young they really were. Eight years old and they had suffered more than most old men and women of eighty. Personally, Ciera would be eternally grateful if she made it to her ninth birthday. 'She's getting worse sis' Crimson's voice shattered the silence. It had been so thick, Ciera could nearly see the shards falling to the musty carpet, mingling with the fine dust.
'All we need to do to get her going is disturb the dust bunnies. She's gone completely round the twist. She's run down the road and gone around the bend. We won't be so lucky next time. She'll kill us, and no-one is going to give a damn.'
Ciera could hear her sister's voice cracking, trying desperately to stay even. Miserable as their lives were, a death sentence was something neither of them wanted to bear.
'I know' she answered quietly, watching a stray cobweb in the corner, blowing in a non-existent breeze.
'But what can we do? Run away? We've got no money, no relatives and no way of surviving. We wouldn't last a week Crimson and you know it'
Ciera couldn't see Crimson's face, she was turned away, but she could hear the sad smile in her voice as she replied 'I know. But right now, anywhere is better than here.'
And the really miserable thing was, Ciera thought as she watched the cobweb float to the ground, that it was true.
AN: OK, this is my first story so please be kind. Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated I need all the help I can get. Thanks.