Just my muse wandering in the opposite direction and inspiring this old thing.
Music Box
"Hey, Megalicious," Wally's outside her room, leaning against the doorframe, the picture of teenage bravado complete with a saucy smile.
She reaches out to him with her mind, urging him to understand.
But she is powerless. Weak.
Music twinkles through the air, spinning around her ears, but Wally does not seem to notice its sickly tune.
Her bright red lips, a shade darker than before her feed, form a pleasant smile and she can feel her amber eyes soften.
"Hi Wally!"
The imitation is perfect. It is beautifully pitched and betrays nothing of the broken girl who remains confined in her own mind.
Wally- passionate, loving Wally- is completely fooled. His smile brightens and he gives her an appraising look. Subtly, she feels her mind slip past his mental defenses and sneakily pry into his thoughts.
(so hot
looking for Robs
mouth to mouth
noise
she okay?)
His jumble-tumbled, blurred thoughts do not intimate that he knows. He is just concerned for her.
If only.
Her smile becomes sharper. (M'gann can feel her even white teeth begin to curve and lengthen.)
And he still doesn't notice.
"I was on a snack run, and I was wondering, have you seen Ro-"
He cuts off.
He is cut off.
Everywhere, scarlet seems to drain from him. His flush cheeks whitened pale, his spray of freckles dark against the cooling skin of his cheek.
And he just stands there! His eyes are wide, pupils blown and he just stands there! He doesn't move, he just stands there!
He stands, until the flow of blood gurgles and he gurgles too. Then… he crumples.
How many can you kill? Megan screeches internally, and her hysteria spills over, nearly overwhelming her senses.
And.
For a blissful window of confusion, she is herself.
Her hand, slick with a thin line of scarlet, is a blade. It separates itself into five fingers that join with her other five to clutch at Wally's collar. Dry heaves weep from her lips as she bends over him. Pulling his head onto her lap she strokes his hair, letting salty sweet tears fall into his red locks. She can't bear to turn him over, can't bear to see his eyes, still wide and uncomprehending. He took that confusion to the grave.
Tear-stained and heartwrenched, M'gann sits alone, ignore the feel of hot blood oozing from his neck. She can't think of where to turn, what to do.
Then… her eyes slowly raise from their downcast stare.
There was a small whisper. The sound of a cape fluttering.
And she goes to meet the source with eyes that burn.
But he has already disappeared around the corner.
And she snarls, "Wally used to hate it when you did that."