the attempt and we ended it with a burst of laughter.
"Close enough," I said triumphantly.
The girls began to sing along with the rest of the song. I
leaned back against the leather seat and stared at my reflection in the window. Hayley straightened my long blonde hair even after I continuously told her it was naturally straight to begin with. My eyes weren't decorated with black eye
makeup the way I had expected. They had a thin layer of dark purple eyeliner that brought out the green in my eyes. Sparkles were dappled lightly over my lids. My fair skin looked ghostly pale under the dim orange light that flickered past the car from the streetlights. I smiled at my reflection and the
fire lit in my eyes, illuminating my face. Reassurance washed through when I realized, I was still me.
Six
The echo of her scream continued to ring in my ears, even after I laid her body against the concrete. My eyes cold, I stared at her limp
form. I used to stare at the bodies, anticipating the remorse that would seep into my veins and haunt me every day of my existence. After a while, I realized the remorse would never come. There was no shadow of guilt that weighed heavily
beneath my chest. I felt nothing. They were nothing.
A cloak of red seeped across the concrete, staining it with the memory of her death. Still, I remained apathetic. The hazel eyes, glazed over, locked with mine, the fear evident in her final expression. I didn't feed
off fear. It merely made the experience of the kill more enjoyable to the taste.
I left her behind the abandoned warehouse. Someone would find her, by morning at the latest, and another animal attack would be claimed.
It was always another animal attack. I found my way back to the main road of the city that I once knew so well. My eyes found my custom black, Gibson Les Paul guitar leaned carefully against a car parked on the side of the road.
I picked it up, the strap over my head, and began to strum a few random chords. I walked along the sidewalk of a back road that led straight to the venue. Each step I took, another chord was strung; a violent melody
shattered the dead calm of the night.
Dead calm. My tongue ran over my bottom lip, tasting the lingering blood drops that stained my flesh. I swallowed whatever was left of the young woman, smiling as the salty substance ran down the back of my throat.
It was monstrous to smile, knowing what I had done, but I was a monster. I didn't pretend to be sorry. I wasn't.
In the distance, the glow of the concert venue came into view. The heavy beats pumped out of the loudspeakers from our back up band. The
raspy voice of the lead singer carried out a scream that could have awakened the dead, to those of us who weren't already awake. I smirked at the thought.
"Having fun?"
I slammed my hand against the strings to silence the sound. I turned, the bass player of our band stood in front of me, a mischievous smirk that tainted his lips. I examined his appearance, from the disheveled black hair down to the chunky, pink substance on the corner of his lip.
I gestured to his lips. "You have some shit on your face."
Jesse wiped off the leftover flesh with his hand before licking his fingers. I noticed they were browned at the tips, resembling ash.
He liked to burn his bodies after he claimed them. When the taste of their skin between our teeth grew bitter and the craving for human flesh sufficed, we had to dispose them. I enjoyed leaving mine for the entire world to see what I had
done, but Jesse enjoyed pyrotechnics.
"Mmm," he moaned. "Delish."
"C'mon," I pushed him towards the backstage door. "I think we're on in a few minutes."
He slipped under the hold I had on his back and ran towards the door. A crumpled sheet of paper was taped to it. The words ' Edward Cullen used to live here' were scribbled in black sharpie on it. One of the previous bands to play at the venue had stuck it on there. When we first
noticed the sign, a few years back, it
"Close enough," I said triumphantly.
The girls began to sing along with the rest of the song. I
leaned back against the leather seat and stared at my reflection in the window. Hayley straightened my long blonde hair even after I continuously told her it was naturally straight to begin with. My eyes weren't decorated with black eye
makeup the way I had expected. They had a thin layer of dark purple eyeliner that brought out the green in my eyes. Sparkles were dappled lightly over my lids. My fair skin looked ghostly pale under the dim orange light that flickered past the car from the streetlights. I smiled at my reflection and the
fire lit in my eyes, illuminating my face. Reassurance washed through when I realized, I was still me.
Six
The echo of her scream continued to ring in my ears, even after I laid her body against the concrete. My eyes cold, I stared at her limp
form. I used to stare at the bodies, anticipating the remorse that would seep into my veins and haunt me every day of my existence. After a while, I realized the remorse would never come. There was no shadow of guilt that weighed heavily
beneath my chest. I felt nothing. They were nothing.
A cloak of red seeped across the concrete, staining it with the memory of her death. Still, I remained apathetic. The hazel eyes, glazed over, locked with mine, the fear evident in her final expression. I didn't feed
off fear. It merely made the experience of the kill more enjoyable to the taste.
I left her behind the abandoned warehouse. Someone would find her, by morning at the latest, and another animal attack would be claimed.
It was always another animal attack. I found my way back to the main road of the city that I once knew so well. My eyes found my custom black, Gibson Les Paul guitar leaned carefully against a car parked on the side of the road.
I picked it up, the strap over my head, and began to strum a few random chords. I walked along the sidewalk of a back road that led straight to the venue. Each step I took, another chord was strung; a violent melody
shattered the dead calm of the night.
Dead calm. My tongue ran over my bottom lip, tasting the lingering blood drops that stained my flesh. I swallowed whatever was left of the young woman, smiling as the salty substance ran down the back of my throat.
It was monstrous to smile, knowing what I had done, but I was a monster. I didn't pretend to be sorry. I wasn't.
In the distance, the glow of the concert venue came into view. The heavy beats pumped out of the loudspeakers from our back up band. The
raspy voice of the lead singer carried out a scream that could have awakened the dead, to those of us who weren't already awake. I smirked at the thought.
"Having fun?"
I slammed my hand against the strings to silence the sound. I turned, the bass player of our band stood in front of me, a mischievous smirk that tainted his lips. I examined his appearance, from the disheveled black hair down to the chunky, pink substance on the corner of his lip.
I gestured to his lips. "You have some shit on your face."
Jesse wiped off the leftover flesh with his hand before licking his fingers. I noticed they were browned at the tips, resembling ash.
He liked to burn his bodies after he claimed them. When the taste of their skin between our teeth grew bitter and the craving for human flesh sufficed, we had to dispose them. I enjoyed leaving mine for the entire world to see what I had
done, but Jesse enjoyed pyrotechnics.
"Mmm," he moaned. "Delish."
"C'mon," I pushed him towards the backstage door. "I think we're on in a few minutes."
He slipped under the hold I had on his back and ran towards the door. A crumpled sheet of paper was taped to it. The words ' Edward Cullen used to live here' were scribbled in black sharpie on it. One of the previous bands to play at the venue had stuck it on there. When we first
noticed the sign, a few years back, it
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