Hi Lovelies
It's Lovely
HERSELF
SENSITIVE CONTENT IN THIS POST BASED ON A TRUE STORY
I went through the darkest moment a person can have in his or her life. I went through darkness, and I met the devil who introduced himself as a friend. He guided me to the world of death. I decided to talk about it and maybe it will help me in a way that I can handle being still alive in a better way, to become a better person, to take off memories, and relieve some thoughts. So I will take you on a journey that left a lovely person behind and that created a person with a broken heart and almost no hope. And this is my story about my experiences before that day when I wanted to kill myself.
This book is for MATURE audiences only! There is STRONG sexual content, explicit language, violence, and lots of R-rated situations. Read with caution!
Chapter 3 - The Beginning
The stories that I have shared in Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 are actually not the first meeting with the devil.
To understand this better we have to go to the year 1995, back to
25 years ago
My story is a little mixtape of Shark Boy and Lava Girl, meets Harry Potter, meets Darth Vader, has intercourse with Spider-Man, and gang bangs Willy Wonka. Let me just say, on record, that I'm not the Devil. That would be cool, but my extreme lack of religious beliefs and horns could probably explain that. To me, the Devil wasn't real. He couldn't be. The power of lightning was something unheard of, but I refused to believe any reasoning in the energy that seemed to flood my core. When my mother gave birth to me, I was still-born. She told me how she prayed to God and begged forgiveness from the Virgin Mary to bring me back to life. But instead of Mr. Christ giving me life...it was the Devil. And believe me, my Jesus-loving, saint of a mother was less than pleased when the Devils mark was branded into my pasty white skin, and my flesh flushed red with the blood of life. I never cried, even as a baby. I never grew sick, and whenever I scraped my knee or sliced my finger open with a paper cut, my wound would always heal abnormally quick. Now you're probably questioning the whole "lightning shooting out of my hands" thing. And believe me, I'm just as confused as you are. So let me take you back to when it all happened...
"Lovely, honey, can you put down the scissors?" My prehistorically-old nanny pleaded as she walked into my room. I frowned, holding my perfectly tanned, blonde-headed Barbie in one hand, and the scissors in another. "But I don't like those lumpy thingies on her chest," I whined, pointing towards the Barbies excessively large boobs. "Sweetie, I just don't want you to hurt yourself." She smiled nervously, wrinkles forming at the edge of her lips. Her face flushed with understandable concern. I shrugged my tiny shoulders, ignoring her concern as the blades of the scissors cut into the Barbies plastic tits, effectively slicing them off. I was about to rejoice when I felt the handles of the scissors being swiped away from me.
"Lovely, when I tell you to do something, you have to do it. I'm the adult, and you're the child. You have to listen to me." She said sternly, holding my favorite neon purple scissors away from me. I frowned, feeling anger pool through my tiny, adolescent body. "Give it back," I demanded, my Barbie long forgotten, as my eyes trained on the purple blades in her wrinkly hands. "No," she said sternly, "you'll have to ask your mother for them when she gets back from work." My chest heaved, my anger pulling over, as I felt my rage bubbling tight inside me.
"Now," I said, my airy voice turning dark with distaste, my little hands raised up as I pointed at the scissors in her hands. She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel to walk away.
And that's when it happened. An electrifying jolt of energy sizzled from my core as it flooded up to my body, and into my hands. And suddenly, a light of bright purple lightning flickered out of my hands, embedding itself into my asshole of a nanny. I heard her groan, as her weathered body collapsed into a heap. The smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils as I hopped up, grabbed my scissors from her sizzling corpse, and trotted back to where I had been playing.
Yup. I'm a fucking psychopath.
It turns out I killed her, not that I knew that at the time. The doctors ruled it as a heart attack, since my little lightning bolt had, quite literally, stopped her heart. My mother knew better. She told me I was the Devil itself, ruling hell on Earth, and killing innocents.
Unfortunately, my saint of a mother didn't give me up for adoption after that. She said my birth was God's plan, and that it was a test, a test to take care of the Devil, and "nurture" his reincarnation.
Apparently, a blue-eyed, white-haired, tiny child, was the Devils "reincarnation."
TIME JUMP 19 days ago
(The afternoon and night after the happenings as described in Chapter 2)
NOTE: Names of the places and people have been changed here but all that you are about to read is based on a true story.
"Hi ma'am, welcome to K-Mart, can I interest you in our very wide selection of Plan B?" I grinned at the teenager, as she gave me a dirty look, pushing past me as she walked into the store.
"Lovely, that's not how we greet customers here. That's rude and snarky." My, potential, future-boss remarked, his face dim with fatigue as he tried his best to deal with my shitty customer service abilities. "Those are my best qualities," I muttered, adjusting the gloves on my hands. See, my mother thought that gloves would apprehend my ability to zap people. Aka, kill them. In truth, they did work, but I hated the way people looked at me like I was crazy when it was 90-degrees outside, and I was wearing dark leather leggings. "Alright, see that father and son? Go greet them with happiness, act like you actually want to work here, please." "Alright, alright." I waved him off, watching as a young dad, and his little boy walked in. "Hi, guys! Welcome to K-Mart! I love my job! Sir, can I interest you in our newly acquired Z-Packs to help you battle Chlamydia?" I smiled fakely. The father glanced up at me, "no thank you." He said apprehensively, wrapping his arm protectively around his son's shoulders as they walked away. But I wasn't finished. "Oh and sir?" I called out "perhaps your son would enjoy our DIY Kit, on how to make your very own Crack Cocaine!"
I felt someone's arms grip my shoulder and I turned to see my manager glaring at me with annoyance. He raked a hand through his limited hair and sighed. "I don't think this is the right job for you." I frowned, "that's exactly what they told me when I applied for that job at that elementary school, dammit." He smiled at me, "I just think you need to get your attitude in check. If you fix that, then maybe I can offer you a job. But until then..." his voice faded away as he held out his hand. I rolled my eyes, ripping off the dark red K-Mart vest, and slung it into his extended hands. "Just an FYI, I got period blood all over that. Yeah, gross, amiright? Also, remember when you asked me to clean the windows? I didn't. So suck it." I muttered to him as I skipped out of the store.
The evening sunlight was blinding as I stepped off the store, the cool fall air whipped into my hair, sweeping my waist-length, white strands back. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and tucked my sleeves over my gloves.
I knew I wouldn't get the job. The only reason I was actually looking for a job, is because I finally graduated high school, and needed the funds to get the Hell away from "home."
I felt myself becoming increasingly frustrated as I began my walk home, my hands shook with agitation, and I felt the sparks from my fingertips slowly singe the lining of my gloves. I knew that some places just didn't want to hire me, but I couldn't help but take it personally. All my life I had been treated as an outcast, and sure, if they knew about the abilities I had, then I wouldn't take it to heart. But they didn't, I told no one. So I couldn't help but take it personally.
I felt the hum of the traffic lights in my skin, as I stood under it, waiting for it to turn green so I could cross the street. I felt the electric pulse of the circuit board flow through my flesh, as the traffic lights began to flicker.
I cursed under my breath as the flickering light finally turned green, and I made my way across the street. I turned towards Joey's Pizzeria at the street corner. I came here every evening and ordered a large pizza, half meat-lovers, and half BBQ chicken.
I walked into the shop, hearing the familiar ring of the doorbell chimes. It was busier than usual, the sticky booths were packed with teenagers, I felt their judgmental eyes on me as I made my way to the front counter.
"Hey Lovely." The cashier smiled at me. It was David, he worked the evening shift and came to know me as a regular. "David, my dude." I grinned as I leaned on the counter, pressing my hands flat against the granite. "The usual, doll face?" He smiled, revealing slightly crooked white teeth, his red hair flopping in every direction. A small dimple appeared at the edge of his lips as he smiled at me. If I was normal, maybe I could date him. He was attractive enough, with a flirty boyish personality that could win over any girl. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it in myself to ever love anybody. I always had the fear of hurting anyone who got close to me. I was quick-tempered and someone who had the abilities I had...should never get angry. My body pulsed like a wave of fire, destroying anything that threatened it. I could never get close to anyone, it was the fear of killing again that always held me back.
"Lovely?" He asked, his flirty eyes grazing my face as he waited for me to respond.
I shook myself away from my thoughts, "Yes indeed, the usual. Also, I need to speak to Jimmy, and god forbid if Jimmy isn't in, then I'll need to speak with Joey." I quirked, opening my wallet as I pulled out a twenty.
David shook his head, grabbing my money and ringing me up, his red hair falling into his eyes as he swept his hair back. "Unfortunately, both Jimmy and Joey aren't in. I can put you through to Papa Joey? Or Olive and Garden?" I waved him off, "Olive Garden isn't even a Pizza place, so dammit David, you ruined my joke." He shook his head, "you're running a little behind, aren't you? Usually, you're here at 6:00." He handed me a big pizza box. I gripped the cardboard in my hands, "I was out job hunting." He smirked, his eyes glittering with amusement, "Did you get a job?" "Fuck no. They don't like my frosty personality." I shrugged, peeking inside the box and felt my mouth watering as 5,000 calories looked up at me with their beautiful, meaty eyes. "How unfortunate" he chuckled, "I'll see you tomorrow?" "You know it, brotha'. If I don't eat at least 12,000 calories a day, I'll physically combust. So you better have a big ass pizza waiting for me tomorrow, I'm counting on you." I turned to walk away.
"Wait! Lovely!" He called out to me, raising his hand out to me.
I turned towards him, frowning as I waited for him to speak again.
"Would you want to, you know, catch a movie sometime or something?" He asked, a red flush creeping up to his ears as he waited nervously for my response.
I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I wanted to go. I wanted to go on a date, laugh at stupid movies, and eat ridiculous amounts of popcorn. I wanted my first kiss, I wanted to hold hands and be walked home by my date. But sadly, these were things I couldn't risk. David was a great guy...one of the few that still existed. I couldn't risk myself getting emotional and hurting him. The lightning that flickered through my body was something I had never been able to control.
He cleared his throat, and I realized I had kept him waiting too long. The blush in his ears had now swarmed over his cheeks. I slid a fake, teasing smile over my face. "You think you could handle all this?" I grinned, gesturing to my long, thin body. He breathed out a small breath of relief, "I'd like to see if I could." "I wish I could." I really did "But I gotta get a job and start becoming a star member of society." I didn't wait for him to answer. I couldn't. I didn't want to see those big puppy dog eyes graze the floor in defeat. I gripped the big box of pizza in my arms and turned on my leather shoes, walking towards the store's exit. I felt the eyes of someone pierce my back and turned to find Stacy Sellers staring at me. Her bitchy face made me want to shove a lightning bolt up her vagina. Her blonde hair was twisted into two tight braids, her wide-set brown eyes glaring at me as I walked past her.
We went to high school together. She bullied me ever since we had 9th-grade French class together, and her boyfriend, Dean, asked me what time it was. Apparently, she thought that by me, telling her boyfriend what time it was, I was basically trying to shove his cock in my mouth. I don't think I've ever liked someone with the name Stacy. Stacy, just the way it rolls off my tongue made me want to slam my face in a microwave.
"Hey Stace, how are ya? Couldn't get Dean's meat so you thought you'd try and get it here? Smart girl." I feigned politeness. She made a face, filled with so much hatred and disgust, I almost felt proud of myself. "Hey Lovely. Still, slitting your wrists and sucking dicks? So cute. And for your information, I don't eat meat. I'm a vegan." "Wow, a real-life Vegan. I have a tree in my back yard, how about you eat it? Or or or how about you just shove that tree, right up your ass because I never asked if you were Vegan, Stacy." She scoffed, her bitchy little friend next to her rolled her eyes at me. "Whatever, freak. Just go home and cry to your little Jesus loving mother, why don't you? You're such a fucking freak."
The F-word. I hated it more than anything. And no, I didn't mean fuck, fondle, or Flamingo. I meant Freak. It hurt me more than anything, because of how true it was. I felt my hands twitching at that word, my heart sunk as a small pump of electricity pooled over me. The lights to Jimmy Joeys flickered, and I smiled at that little bitch. It wasn't a happy smile either, it was pure anger. Stacy looked above her at the crackling lights and frowned, her hand tapping nervously on the table. "How does it feel to be the oldest virgin alive?" She taunted, her friend next to her giggled like a fucking imbecile. It didn't faze me. I was 18, I was in no rush. Not that I would ever be able to get close enough to someone in that way without the fear of accidentally killing them. "It feels great Stace. How does it feel being a fat vegan? You're a rare species." Not waiting for her response, I turned on my heels and walked out the door.
My mother didn't let me sleep in the house. She thought that I, the "Devil", would slaughter her in her sleep. So, I slept in the guest house, a hundred feet away. She moved me out of the house after my little "escapade" with the nanny, and for the last 15 years, I've lived as a guest in my own home. I plopped down on my bed, tearing off my gloves, and diving into the pizza. The pizza was my only friend, really. It was the only thing that would stick by me, not call me a Freak, and nurture my hunger. My hands relished at their freedom from the gloves, I flexed my fingers, watching in awe as small, purple sparks trailed from their tips. I finished the pizza in about 10 minutes, as I leaned back on my bed and stared at my hands. They were pale, long, and skinny just like the rest of me was. I watched the flickers of bright purple static flowed out of my fingertips.
It didn't hurt, it felt natural to watch the long, bright strobes illuminate from my body. I never wanted to be this way. I know, how stereotypical of me. But I never felt special. Special, to me, was when your mother cooks your favorite meal, or curls next to you as you both watch your favorite TV show. Special, was when you went out to dinner with your friends or went out Ice Skating on a Friday night.
I wasn't special, and worse, I wasn't normal either. I was just this sad little Freak, who wasn't loved, or cared for by anyone. I couldn't afford to be loved or cared for by anyone. I was just me. Lovely. That girl who wore the leather leggings, that girl who was so-called marked by the Devil, that girl who really, was never supposed to be born. I dream about the days when I would be free from this Hell hole. When I'd have enough money to go off on my own and start a whole new life. Maybe buy a piece of shit car and travel the world. I've never been anywhere. I've been stuck in this piece of shit town, with the same people my entire life.
Suddenly, I felt the scar on my back begin to burn and I winced. I lifted my arm over my head, touching the sensitive flesh on my back. It burned like it never had before, and I felt my eyes watering as it sizzled and crackled with every breath I took.
I'm coming. A deep voice whispered into my head and I frowned as my skin continued to burn.
"Who's there? I'll let you know that I've watched Mulan six times, so you better get the Hell out of my little hobo shelter!" I yelled into the air. What does Hell have to do with anything, Lovely?" The voice rang inside my head, this time louder, I clutched my ears shut as my scar burned with an icy-hot sensation. I didn't respond to the dark voice, only clutched my head as I waited for someone to just pounce into my room and murder me.
I'm coming for you. The voice whispered, almost as if whoever said it was right next to me. I could smell cigarettes and mint, I could smell its breath. "AAA!" I screamed, falling off my bed and jumping right up, my hands raised in a weird Karate-Ninja stance. I'm coming for you.
It said again, this time I could tell it was a man's voice. But as soon as he finished his words, the stench of cigarettes and mint flowed away, the burning sensation ceased, and I knew, whoever it was, was gone. "That's what she said," I whispered into thin air.
To be continuned...
To be continuned...
