Faustus
She stood there in a gown with a mermaid skirt.
The only thing she could say was, "Potato."
Irritated. Upset. Impatient. Her mother. Joe's mother. Joe.
The kind old priest was at a loss for words. One or two or perhaps three of the guests giggled.
She dared not turn to look at Joe.
Those brown eyes. Those two pools of boiling chocolate.
Indignation. Accusation.
She dared not turn to look at her mother.
What was her father thinking? And her sister? And her friends?
She couldn't tell.
This was her path. This was her choice. And somehow all she could say was, "Potato."
Run, Stephanie. Another little something at the bottom of her empty stomach whispered. Run like hell.
Her heart, she suddenly recalled; she had sold her heart and soul, the previous day, to the golden-eyed demon.
Devil and the deep blue sea. Your sense and your sensibility. That slightly tarnished one-dollar coin. And your heart's and soul's desire.
Run, Stephanie. Run like hell.
Inside her chest was now a gaping hole.
She looked pretty from head to hem but in fact she was but an empty shell.
A faceless void with no heart and soul.
And all she could utter was, "Potato."
Where had all the monsters gone?
Run, Stephanie. Run like hell.
"Cupcake." Warning. Carefully contained anger. A subtle hint of resentment. Impatience. "Cut it out."
And she turned away from the altar and ran like hell. In a beautiful pair of high heels. In a beautiful gown with a mermaid skirt.
Perfect hair. Perfect weather. Perfect music. Perfect makeup. Perfect flowers.
She no longer had an apartment. She no longer had a hamster. She no longer had a gun. Nor did she had any bullets.
Queen Elsa of Arendelle and her ice palace.
Run, Stephanie. Run like hell.
"Cupcake!"
Her stomach growled.