( ☠ @pseudosed ☠ )
18, just a foot into the doorway of adulthood. And yet, still so young to have blood on your hands. She put on a facade, to everyone she was the golden rich girl, charming and beautiful. But on the inside something was empty, hollow. Something was inherently wrong.
Amara had been at a party, a typical beer filled Saturday night, not unlike any other. A guy had chatted her up, nothing too out of the ordinary for a girl such as herself and when he asked her alone in the woods she had said yes. The knife in her pocket was never meant to actually be used, his blood was never meant to cover her hands.
He gets a tad too grabby, when the shoving away doesn’t stop the persistent invasion of personal space, the blade comes out---and it’s almost as if she loses track of herself. One minute he was alive, the next he was bleeding out on the ground. The blood on her hands and the knife signify a change.
She doesn’t call for help, she watches him bleed, with an almost sick curiosity. Get help, call 911, something inside her tries to rationalize but to no avail.
No one suspects her. Everyone was far too drunk to truly provide a useful statement, Amara’s small appearance and seemingly harmless demeanor keeps her out of the line of fire.
--- A month later ---
Amara had one true friend in this world and that was Vin. She trusted him, she relied on him, and most of all she cared about him. What happened in the dark that night was a secret she held inside herself. But it wasn’t something she could exactly hide from forever, not when that blood lust still lived somewhere in the back of her mind. This is what brings her to his door at half past two AM. When the door opens she walks in without permission, though knowing her it’s not all too unexpected behavior. ❝Vin---I...I think there’s something WRONG with me.❞
