Chapter Four

She turned the shower on, like she had that night a year ago..the night that had ended everything.

She looked into the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. The black eyeliner she had worn constantly had smeared down her face, to the tops of her cheeks. The black lipstick she'd been wearing that night was smeared off to both sides of her face, creating a cruel smile. Dirt was caked in her hair, which had turned dark brown and had grown past her shoulders in death. The tips were still red and black, she smirked slightly seeing that. Her body was covered in scars, both of her wrists deeply scarred from being slashed open. As she took off the black lacy dress she'd been buried in, she found that the rest of her body was scarred as well, her inner thighs covered completely in an almost mesh-looking layer of nail-dug scars. Memories of how they'd violated her that night came flooding back, and she began to cry again. The unseen horrors of how they had used hers and Yvonne's corpses, had become one-night necrophiliacs, slammed into her mind. She shook, rage, pain, hatred filling her. She screamed, slamming her fist into the bathroom mirror. Glass shattered everywhere, embedding into her skin. She grabbed a shard of glass, digging it deeply into her wrist, re-opening the scars Jose had left. She slashed madly, still screaming quietly in pain as she fell back against the door. Her lips pealed back in a pained, self-hating smile.

"Yes, let me die again now! Let this all be over, goddamnit!"

Her chest heaved, blood pouring onto her. She stared at her wrist, wishing she would die sooner, her eyes flitting throughought the room, focusing on the broken glass everywhere. She looked back to her arm, and to her surprise, and somewhat horror, her wrist began to close up. She held it close in disbelief, and she could actually see the skin reforming, melding together, creating new layers. In a few minutes, there was only a scar.

"..What the fuck.."

Rhiannon looked at her fist where she had punched the mirror, seeing nothing but faint scars. She looked around the now-bloody bathroom, completely confused. She got into the shower, and began to wash the grime and blood off of her skin, a genderless, soundless voice echoing inside of her head.

"You're undead now, Rhiannon..You've been brought back in the spirit of veangance, to get payback for what Jose and his friends did to Yvonne and you. The

crow is your guide now, your sole companion. Do not mingle with the living, it's not your place anymore, and this is only temporary."

The voice held no emotion, only an assumed feeling of knowledge, as if the voice of time was speaking into Rhiannon's mind directly. The water was cold as it washed through her hair, her skin prickling up at the freezing sensation. When she was clean, she opened the door, and walked out of the bathroom, naked. Instinctively she went into her old bedroom, her fingers gracing the torn magazine picture of a rose on her door. Her room was almost how it had been when she had died, only a few things were gone. Her Xbox, television, her stereo and mostly things that would be valueble to thieves, were the only things gone. Her posters, trinkets, her bed...most of her room was still there. Speechless she stood in the doorway for a second before sitting down on the bare mattress of her bed and closing her eyes.

So many memories in this room, the good and the bad. She ran her fingers over the old iron bedframe, smiling sadly as she realized again that nothing could ever be the same now, she couldn't lay down now and wake up to find everything back to normal. She looked for something to pull over herself, for warmth more than anything. As she'd done so many times, she pulled open the second drawer in the tall dresser of her bedroom, her jean drawer. There were only a few pairs of pants there, the most comfortable of them a pair of old stretch jeans she had cut up one day with a razor blade. There were more holes then there was jean, but she loved the pants. She had sewn fishnet in certain areas of the holes, giving it a unique look. People had asked her where she bought them all the time, were surprised when she told them it was her own work.

Rhiannon set the pants on her bed, heading to her underwear drawer.

"Isn't this like old times..."

She pulled out a a black thong and a black sports bra, throwing them onto her bed. Rhiannon stood back up, turning towards her closet. She paused for a second, looking at the sheet of white fabric stapled to the door, with all of her and Yvonne's randomness plastered on it. Inside her closet walls, as well, she had turned it into a gigantic diary of sorts. Lyrics, thoughts, suicidal ideas, all scrawled haphazardly around. There were only a few shirts still in the closet, Rhiannon saw she began looking through them. The first thing that caught her eye was the black men's workshirt she had begged her mother to buy her. She'd loved wearing guy's clothes, a few times had dressed completely in it, boxers and no lipstick. She'd said numerous times she'd make a better boy then she would a girl, which offended her mom to some degree. Rhiannon thought it was funny, as she carried the shirt back to her bed and picked up the bra, putting it on. Without thinking, she kneeled down and pulled out her bottom drawer, grabbing a black camisole type shirt, putting it on over that. Dressed, she lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, thinking about her current position.

Rhiannon kew Jose and his cronies deserved the worst possible punishment for what they'd done, especially to Yvonne. She thought it out in her head, over and over, if it wasn't for her Yvonne would be alive right now, probably watching The Shining, or drawing. Living, basically. But not, thanks to Jose's unending jealousy, the only person Rhiannon had ever loved with all her heart was dead, as was she. No one would ever comb out Yvonne's long, wavy black hair, now turning back to it's original colour of brown. No one would ever dye it again, would feel it against their face in their sleep. Yvonne would sleep forever now, and Rhiannon would live in this cruel, empty world.

She knew she couldn't go to her family, not yet at least. She would tell her mother, she decided, at least that she was there. She deserved to know that much, Rhiannon thought. Too many things in her head, everything was spinning so fast. She didn't know how long she would have, if she'd stay until she killed Jose, or if she was being timed in some way. Rhiannon decided she would attempt to sleep, or rest at least.

"Maybe everything will make sense in the morning...probably not, but I don't suppose there's any pain in trying.."

As Rhiannon lay back on her bed, looking out the window into the rain, Duncan came into her room and jumped onto her bed. There was the ghost of a smile on her stained black lips, as she cuddled the dog close to her, her only warmth from now on. She could hear a faint caw from beyond her bedroom, as the crow settled down somewhere to sleep.