Liv Siobahn
Age 14
. . .
She stared at herself in the mirror. She turned her head side to side, admiring, in part, her Asian cheekbones that complimented her Indian nose. Her caramel skin was something that some people would have made leather out of, and her silky dark brown, almost black, hair fell onto her shoulders and covered her face with no real sense of orientation. Today, she was wearing a simple gray dress with black leggings. She wasn't wearing any shoes because she did not plan on going any where today. Some where in the background, some song by Ron Browz played on her stereo.
"If you were mortal, would you think that I'm... pretty?" she asked Him, knowing full well He was with her. He was annoyed that she knew He was there, because He knew she was going to ask Him that.
His answer, like so many of the ones He gave her, was ambiguous.
She pushed aside his remark and looked back on her reflection. She then arranged her hair in a way that it fell over her face some more, and she stared down at her reflection. The result made her look terrifying, but hauntingly beautiful at the same time. She let her shoulders slack and she took a deep breath out before beginning to recite a book she had read some time before by an author called Julie Hearn;
"I never meant it to end the way it did. Grace might have done, but not me. Grace was fifteen, as artful as a snake, and already on the slippery slope to Hell. But I, Patience Madden, could have stopped at any time-uncrossed by eyes, made my arms and legs be still, and called a halt to the filthy words jumping out of my mouth like toads. I could have spat the pins from under my tongue and admitted they came not from the Devil, but from the cherrywood box our mother kept tiny things in.
She promised me I would not have to behave like this for much longer. In a day or so, she said, we would stage our recovery. Wake up all smiles, ready to put on our itchy bonnets and do our tiresome chores, like good, obedient girls.
A few days more, she said, and our lives would go back to normal. As dull as sum, but blameless.
It did not happen like that. It went too far.
We went to far."
She looked back on herself in the mirror. She had said all of this in the most tiresome and dull voice she could give; as if she had been beaten down by an angry mob many times before giving the account. It was her acting ability that was never shown or given the light of day because of Him.
She blamed Him for a lot of things, but in reality, most of it was her own fault.
She pushed her hair back, making her face prominent again, and looked back at herself in the mirror. There, in a sudden vision, she saw Him. She jumped back from the mirror in surprise and shock, but when she turned around, He was no longer there. Or at least, He wasn't there physically. She could still sense Him in the room, but she had never seen Him physically before. She looked back at the mirror.
"You told me you would never show me what you looked like." she said. "I know what happens to people who see you..."
Again, an answer was given that was and wasn't.
"You weren't my friend," she muttered, "You're a monster..."
She could feel Him come closer after she said this. She closed her eyes, accepting the punishment of whatever He was going to do to her for speaking out. But there wasn't pain. He did nothing to her. Instead, she received a feeling of being kissed on her forehead. He hadn't done such a thing in years, why start again now?
"Why?" she asked softly. "Why can you not kill me like the others? What holds you back? I'm not different, for as long as I've known you, I should be dead."
He gave her His answer, and she could feel His presence go away. She smirked a little.
She was beginning to think His kisses were not to give her assurance or as a sign of affection.
It marked her as His.
She was dead either way.