To days of inspiration
Playing hookie, making something out of nothing
The need to express
To communicate,
To going against the grain,
Going insane
Going mad
To loving tension, no pension
To more than one dimension,
To starving for attention,
Hating convention, hating pretension
Not to mention of course,
Hating dear old mom and dad
To riding your bike,
Midday past the three- piece suits
To fruits to no absolutes
To Absolute- to choice
To the Village Voice
To any passing fad
To being an us-for once-, instead of a them -

-La Vie Boheme from Rent-

Days past, I continued reading the story of Christopher, this Emma woman was a real bitch, no hints to exactly what he was, but there was a body count, at the end of each entry he would right a number, and I knew that's what it stood for.

"May 2nd 1625

They torched our house today, it's been two weeks since I was officially considered dead by my town, but someone said they saw me in the woods, apparently Emma is a witch who drug my spirit from the heavens and doomed me to walk the earth.

If they only knew how true that was. So they burnt down the house, their way of getting rid of their problem, Emma says we have to run, leave Britain, apparently we aren't safe here anymore, all this power, all this strength, and we can't even defend ourselves? Why do we have to run?

I killed another girl today, Emma seems to enjoy watching the last hints of humanity leave me as the days go by. She brings me younger girls each time, seeing if I'll ever turn them down, but it hasn't happened yet, my hunger is much stronger than my guilt.

Twenty-two."

The entry took up only half the page, on the bottom the same hand writing had written something in, the ink looked much newer, but besides that there was no difference.

"Razors pain you, rivers are damp, acids stain you, and drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful. Might as well live."

I stopped, staring at the script, I knew that poem…That was written by Dorothy Parker, and if I can remember right, in my English class we learned that she was born in the 1800's, years after this guy should have died…

I examined the writing more, there wasn't a single difference between the two, how is this possible?

I flipped to the next page, scanning it quickly, this entry his handwriting wasn't near as neat this time, I could tell from the way he wrote he was angry, depressed, and hurting.

"May 3rd, 1625

I grew up living next to Elisa Jackson, each year I watched her grow to become a beautiful woman, my whole life I had spent loving her, wanting to be with her, but it never seemed to happen.

Even in my death I was obsessed with her, Emma saw this, apparently she didn't like it. She caught me watching her as she walked past our new hide out, she laughed in that melodic way of hers, informing me if I wanted her so badly then I should just take her. But I could never do that to someone, especially not Elisa, she deserved so much more than this.

I awoke today to a horrific screaming, something I'd become used to, living in the presence of Emma, she rather enjoys playing with her food. As I exited the tub filled with ice water I heard more screaming.

I followed the sound into one of the other rooms, only to be met with a scarring sight. Emma had Elisa cornered, her small frame shaking, blood stained her dress, she was rocking, hands covering her face, and screaming. Emma looked back at me with a malicious smile, then pulled Elisa to her feet, throwing her in my direction.

Elisa fell into my arms like a rag doll, she didn't have the strength to hold herself up anymore, she looked up at me, her green eyes were no longer the same young, hopeful eyes I had fallen for, instead the were crazed, broken, I knew that whatever life used to be in Elisa, Emma had made sure to take it, she was nothing more than a mere body, following orders from a mind that no longer understood why it was still functioning.

'You wanted her, there she is.' Emma spoke, her words echoing in the silent room, I watched her leave the room, leaving me with the task. I looked once more at the girl, trying to envision her as nothing more than a stranger I lured from the street, after all, Elisa was no longer in there, it was just a shell now.

'Please' was all she would say, she kept repeating it as she buried her head into my chest. I shut my eyes, trying to block out the thoughts that plagued me, then without another thought, I sunk me teeth into her flesh.

Twenty-Three."

I stared at the page for at least five extra minutes before my phones alarm went off, reminding me it was time for theater class. I jumped from my bed and headed towards the door.

The auditorium door made a loud thud as it shut behind me, everyone in the class, all twenty of them, were all sitting in the middle of the stage in a circle. They all looked at me, Torah just giggled at me for being late.

"Shut it…" I muttered as I sat next to her.

She continued to giggle, causing her straight brown hair to fall lower in its ponytail. Torah and I went through high school together, we went through choir and theater, through multiple auditions and multiple duet performances, even something we now know as the Cell Block Tango Fiasco…

Don't ask unless you want a four hour rant from Torah, mostly in Spanish. She sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder, whispering to me telling me what I had missed. I kept giggling at some of the sarcastic comments she made.

"Ladies, is there something you need to share with the class?"

Torah sat up straight and nodded. "I was just professing my undying love for Lidia…"

I smiled and joined in on the joke. "Here we are dear old friend, you and I drunk again.
Laughs have been had and tears have been shed. Maybe the whiskey's gone to my head…" I sang loudly and off key, causing several people around me to burst into laughter.

Soon Torah and several other people joined in. "But if I were gay, I would give you my heart. And if I were gay, you'd be my work of art, and if I were gay we would swim in romance. But I'm not gay, so get your hand out of my pants…"

"Okay, okay very funny guys, that's enough!" Mrs. Laurence laughed at our little joke, but I could tell she was getting annoyed.

Torah and I had been doing things like that since high school, once we were suspended for three days for standing on our desk and singing La Vie Boheme, we got all the way to the second verse which mentions dildo's before the teacher was able to stop us.

Yea, we were pretty bad ass.

Mrs. Laurence went on about stage presence and several other things, but my mind was far from this class room, my mind was back with Christopher, wondering what the hell went on with him.