Saturday, March 16, 2013

Blade Queen, part 2

I got her name out of her: Lily Weiss. It’s a stupid-sounding name if you ask me, and I have no clue why I even bothered getting it out of her. But yeah, her name is Lily Weiss, and she’s twenty-five—four years older than me. God, she’s polluted the world with her stupid for far too long. Something too stupid to realize that being killed is supposed to be a bad thing that you don’t want should’ve just been put out of its misery at the first opportunity. Actually, maybe that’s it; maybe she actually realizes how stupid she is and knows that the world just shouldn’t be subjected to that kind of stupidity anymore. Maybe that’s why she’s so okay with me killing her.
            Anyway, you’re going to want to shoot me for being such a jackass when I tell you this, but I actually climbed down in that stupid ditch to cover the miserable bitch up with the sweatshirt I stole off that guy I got the other day. I just wanted to kill her myself instead of letting the cold steal my victim.
            But if that’s the case, why didn’t I just smother her in the damn sweatshirt?
            My god, what a jackass I am turning into!

I woke Lily’s miserable ass up earlier this morning. “Look what a jackass you’ve turned me into,” I snapped at her. “You know you’ve turned me into a jackass if I let you live to see the morning.” She just blinked stupidly at me and said, “I see. I…appreciate you letting me live this long, I suppose.” For fuck’s sake! I knew exactly what she was up to and there was no way in hell I was going to let it happen. I grabbed her by her ugly blonde ponytail. “Just because I let you live this long doesn’t mean you should expect me to let you out alive, little girl,” I told her. “The only way you’re getting out of here is in death.”
            “I know.”
            Son of a bitch.
            She’s scared, that’s what’s going on. I scared the poor little bimbo out of her mind and she’s come down with fucking Stockholm syndrome. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I fed Lily nothing but a very minimal supply of berries for breakfast. I told her it was too damn bad if they turned out to be poisonous, it would just get the job done more effectively if they were. I don’t know why I said that. I also don’t know why I chose to feed her the berries I knew damn well weren’t toxic. I eat those things for breakfast every morning, for Chrissake.
            “Thank you so much,” she said, before digging in like it was a feast for a queen. She didn’t even seem to be thinking over the possibility that I might’ve been poisoning her right then and there. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!
            After she finished the five or six berries, she had the audacity to come over to me and ask me my name. My better nature told me to push her down, or kick her in the stomach, but for some reason I didn’t listen to my better nature. Instead, I just told her my name. “Blade Queen.”
            “Oh, because of that blade you carry?”
            Wow! “No, I’m named that because I shit razorblades.”
            She laughed.
            People this dumb just shouldn’t be allowed to exist. I narrowed my eyes and said, “Girl, you’re really beginning to piss me off. You get back in that ditch and stay away from me for the rest of the day, and you might get to see one more morning. Might.
            She nodded. “Okay.” As I headed back to the tent, I watched her head back to the ditch. It made me laugh. That’s the only thing stupid people are good for, making people laugh.


            I really am a jackass.
            I told Lily to stay away from me after breakfast because of her stupid-ass laughter. The thing is…I liked it. Okay, I said it: I liked it. I sent the bitch away from me because there was no way in hell I would ever admit to liking the way she laughed at my stupid razorblade comment.
            Why did I like it? Just…why? I mean, I hadn’t actually heard the sound of laughter—except for my own, of course—since I ran off, three years ago, and back when I heard it I hated it. It was an annoying sound, a terrible sound that wormed its way into my ears and perpetually bounced off the insides of my head, never exiting. I’d cover my ears to block it out, but it never worked. The sound would linger on, signaling me to the happiness of others, happiness I never felt and never would feel. I didn’t learn to laugh until I ran off and got away from that disgusting waste of space others called my father, and away from the morons at the schools. I laughed after particularly glorious kills, imagining the victim to be my father or my mother or one of the assholes at school—this was the first time I’d ever felt the kind of happiness that brought forth laughter.
            I loved the sound of my own laughter for this reason: I had only just learned to very recently and it gave me a sense of accomplishment to hear my own laughter. I went through my life suffering the laughter of others and being completely unable to laugh myself. However, there was something about Lily’s laughter, something about the sound of another’s laughter after years of only ever hearing my own…I hate this! It doesn’t make sense! None of this makes sense! Or maybe it makes so much sense that…that…
            Oh dear god. I need to hurl. Now!


            I didn’t hurl. I’m probably gonna later on, but I was saved this time around. I ran down to the creek and wretched for about four or five minutes, and when nothing came up I headed in the direction of the tent.
            My better nature was telling me to go back to the tent and leave well enough alone, but it seemed like today something was fighting my better nature for the very first time. I hated it. I absolutely hated it. I hated the unknown, unseen force that was prying me away from the tent and dragging me down to Lily’s ditch instead. What do I even need to come around here for?! I wondered as the feet that weren’t mine—couldn’t have been mine—carried me to the edge of the ditch. I peered over the edge, and there was Lily, the source of my misery for the day.
            She was damn lucky I had given her that sweatshirt to cover up with. Even with the sweatshirt, she was shivering like a wet dog, and she was just lying there and letting herself shiver. She wasn’t crying or whimpering or anything else I had learned to expect from victims; she wasn’t even tossing and turning. She wants to die, I said to myself. She shows no regard for herself at all, and is probably training herself to embrace death. I knew people like that existed, but I had never gotten a single victim like that. Not in my entire time out here in the woods.
            There’s a full moon out tonight—those big, white moons that give me the only joy I know in life besides killing. The rays illuminated Lily’s face, which was as milk-white as the moon itself. How could anybody be so pale? I wondered. She’s like a ghost, for Pete’s sake. Her blonde hair turned pale silver in the light of the moon. Her lips looked pinker and had flecks of cream here and there. Her milky skin and the moonbeams seemed to blend with eachother. I have no clue why I stood there and stared at her long enough to be able to write this description.
            I found myself forced to admit that she was a pretty little thing. Not pretty enough for me to want to have my way with her, but still a pretty little thing, nonetheless. The moment I thought this, I figured the moonlight must have been getting to me and I really had to get back to the tent to regain my senses. I shook my head, trying to clear the lunacy from it, and finally headed to the tent to let the moonbeams play on my own skin. They turned my ebony to a polished-looking onyx, like that of a statue or monolith, and I liked it that way. In a way, I was a monolith to this forest. I was a legend.

Lily was up before me this morning.
I left the camp to grab some more berries this morning and returned to find that my usual breakfast spot was laid out with all these crazy plants and berries. Half of them were inedible and many of them were actually poisonous. I hate to admit, though, that the layout was very decent. There was even a fucking floral centerpiece, for crying out loud; a fruity little arrangement of pink and yellow creek flowers sitting dead center on my eating rug. I know I’m calling it fruity now, but at the time that newly-formed annoyance inside of me—the one that forced me to feed her those berries, and made me check on her at the ditch last night, and refused to let me just give her the good beating she deserved—was going on about how many pains she must’ve taken to arrange this. It doesn’t matter, you idiot! I told that annoyance. It’s all toxic! So that’s what her game has been this whole time—she’s trying to kill me before I kill her! This made me absolutely furious. Nobody did Blade Queen in! Blade Queen was immortal, dammit!
And there was no way in hell the queen of blades, the queen of the forest, would be done in by some little, ghost-white blonde bitch!
I smelled burning meat, and followed the scent to find her trying to cook this huge-ass slab of deer over my carefully constructed cooking oven. Oh god, she was trying to poison me and she was stealing my meat!  That was it! In a second I was on her, pinning her down like a panther about to feast. I forgot about how much I liked her laughter. I forgot about everything I felt while I was checking on her last night. I couldn’t give her anymore freebies. I couldn’t keep her alive a second longer. I had to kill her.
I withdrew my blade and pressed it to her neck just as she said, “Oh…good morning.”
Good morning, my ass!  “I’ve figured your game out, little girl,” I told her. “Let me tell you, I am immortal. There is nobody in this world—nobody—that will end my life before I end theirs. I am the deathbringer. I am the grim reaper. Your attempts to poison me are absolutely futile, and now that I know your game, I must do away with you. You’ve lost any shred of respect I might’ve had for you.”
“Poison you? I’m not trying to poison you. I’m not trying to poison anybody.”
“Bullshit!” I pressed the blade deeper in, hard enough to draw the first blood. I pressed my lips to the wound and licked it up. She didn’t wince from the pain. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She was completely ready to die. “I know these woods, and half of those plants you so generously laid out for me would kill me in a few hours. You think I’m too stupid to know that?! These woods are my home, you moron!” There was more blood, which I licked up.
“Well, I don’t know these woods,” she said. “And I didn’t know they were poisonous. It was not my intention to poison you, and if you’ll let me go for one second I’ll clear them all out.”
Now she was fighting for her life. She was finally making an attempt to put off her death. “What’s the matter with you?” I asked her. “You wanted to die before. What changed your mind? You’re not getting away, if that’s what you think.” “I still don’t mind dying,” she told me. “But you don’t want those toxic berries around your eating area, I’m sure.”
“Are you being a smartass, girl?”
I removed the blade, savoring just a bit more of the blood. “Go clean my spot up and come back to me.”
I tended to the deer meat while she did that. She’d been cooking it all wrong. I know her game now…

No comments:

Post a Comment