Working at a bakery was the best job in the world for Candace Smith. She got to make children and people of all ages smile and she was surrounded by delicious sweets that were as sweet as she was. With her buttery blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, sweet personality, and the fact that she liked to dress like a cupcake, she could never hurt anyone. Until she did.
It was a slow afternoon in her bakery and not many people were coming in. Candace was bored. Was was a curious individual, and one to get bored easily. So she walked to the back of the bakery, took the stairs to the basement, and prayed at her shrine to the Princess of Hell.
She knew she was real. She had to be. She knew they would be best friends.
As happy and friendly as Candace was, she didn't have many friends. She liked to think of her customers as friends, but they never stuck around long enough to get to know her. And if they did, she knew they'd reject her.
She never fit in with anyone. But she knew Princess Charlie would understand her. She was just like her! And she would do anything to have a friend. Even get sent to Hell.
She just had to find a way to get sent to Hell...
A second later, she heard a bell noise from upstairs. That meant a customer had walked in. Without a second thought, she grabbed a red sheet and covered her altar with it. But she forgot to blow out her candles, and as she absentmindedly walked upstairs, small flames surfaced on top of the sheet that would soon grow.
Candace walked to the counter to greet her customer, all smiles. They were a middle-aged man who regularly visited the bakery. Candace considered him a friend. Which made what she was about to do to him so much harder. But she had no choice. No one else was there. It was her only chance.
"Hi, Martin!" Candace said in her usual happy demeanor. Martin greeted her. "Your usual?" she asked.
"Yup!" Martin replied.
"You know, I have something special to give you, for being one of our best customers!" Candace said. "Come with me."
Candace led Martin down to the basement. He looked around the pitch-black room and noticed that Candace was no longer in front of him. He noticed a fire on what looked like a table with things on it, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a sharp pain in his side and fell to the ground with a thud.
Candace stood over him holding a pastel, decorated knife. "I'm sorry, Martin," she whispered. Then she stabbed him about seven more times.
Candace dropped her bloody knife, put her head to her knees, and sobbed.
Meanwhile, the altar was still on fire, and the fire was spreading. Fast. But Candace didn't do anything about it. She just let it consume her. And everything around her.
The bakery crumbled around her. She heard a creak above her. She looked up, vision blurry from tears, and gasped as a wooden board from the ceiling fell right on top of her head. She fell asleep, engulfed in flames and woke up engulfed in flames. But she was no longer in her bakery. She looked down at her hands. They were no longer stained with her friend's blood. She felt like a different person entirely. She smiled a blood-boiling smile. But it wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile that wanted blood.