User:Ticci-Tony/sandbox

Crimsons Story Riley Elizabeth King was looking at herself in the tall mirror in the small bathroom. The rhombus-shaped tiles glittered against the warm ceiling light, and the sink mirror created a constant back and forth reflection in the tall mirror. Riley ran her fingers through her dirty blonde, pixie short hair. Her hair had natural lighter blonde highlights streaking in her almost-sidebang. It drove her mother nuts when she had her hair in her face. Riley looked at her red sweater with her hazel eyes, feeling satisfied with the bright and bold color. Red was her favorite color, particularly crimson red. Her rounded slightly tanned face fit her hair and eyes perfectly, making her receive many compliments from the adults. Riley had some mental health issues. She was diagnosed with ADHD, anxiety, Tourette’s, and manic depression. She found all four of those quite tormenting and was positive there was more wrong with her mentally. She always was bitterly negative whenever someone said something nice to her. Riley also was often dragged down by her own self-doubt, drowning herself in her own black water of cynicism. It felt like a swirling black void of darkness and frustration in her chest: her own feelings of self-hatred and self-pity overwhelmed her and caused a handful of internal mental and emotional agony. The small eleven-year-old girl rolled up her sleeves, the crusty dried blood from the inside of the sleeves flaked out. Riley picked at her straight and parallel scabs: She had tried to cut herself the day before with a piece of plastic she had snapped off her toothpick by twisting it a hundred times. Why can’t I just be like everyone else? Riley thought to herself as she brushed her teeth. She dreaded the upcoming day. She knew her mother would give her hell before she left for school that day, and on the way to school as well as in it, the kids would bully her into crying and lashing out at them before running off like she did every day. In elementary school, Riley was one of those kids who acted like animals and thought she was part wolf. At this age she was also still like this as well, growling at kids who messed with her and snarling. The kids called her names and made fun of this behavior. Not only this but also her tics and stutters as well. The energy buzz and build go to her neck and shoulders, and her head becomes jolted to her shoulders, and the shoulder is jammed into the behind her ear. Sometimes these tics became more than two parts- sometimes it was also her hand and arm or her leg, the muscles contracting. Whenever she had a tic while speaking, she had to stutter the words as well. She would repeat whatever it was that she was saying, usually the first few sounds of whatever she was saying, and would not spit the word out until the tic finished pestering her. One day they’ll learn...even if I have to be the one teaching them. She thought to herself, giving the other children her Death Glare. They simply laughed at her. If it was in fear or-in fact enjoyment, she was unsure. In her mind, she had images of herself doing these gruesome things. She imagined herself tormenting them in ways much worse than they deserved. She would not only imagine these things but plan them as well. She would consider following through with these plans but then thought of the consequences. She had a phobia of police and did not want anything to do with them, scared of their guns. She had a relative who had a father who was shot by a police officer, but was unsure why. Riley went to her room, walking in a very slow, depressed fashion. She grabbed her bag and tried to quickly move past her mother without being seen. “Hey! Where do you think you're going?” Her mother asked, using a sharp tone insensitively. “Outside...to school…” Riley mumbled in response, her voice a low crackle. She knew it was 6:30 in the morning, but she was way too nervous in her house. She wanted to be as far away from her mother as possible in fear of being smacked for not using her common sense. Riley stood there waiting for the typical, everyday scolding. “When are you supposed to leave for school?” Her mother would ask, her brown eyes wide in threat. “ Six… forty-five…” “What time is it now?” “Sixth-thirty…” “Okay...then why are you leaving fifteen minutes early?” “I dunno....” “That's not an answer. Why are you leaving fifteen minutes early?” “I d-d-don’t know,” “I said that's not an answer! Why are you leaving fifteen minutes earlier than you're supposed to?” Riley backed up a little as she shrugged, afraid of her mother's raised voice. She tried to keep a poker face, but she must've been showing emotion. Her mother stormed up to her and grabbed her face with a hand. Riley’s face made the fish lips as her mother held a firm grip on her cheeks. Riley did not try to pull away. She did nothing. She just stood there locking eyes with the woman. It was some instinct of fear that told her to stay silent. Her mother spoke again in a harsher and more aggressive voice as she let go and pushed Riley in the chest with a closed hand, causing her to stagger backward. “ Answer me now!” The woman shouted, the hatred visible in her eyes. Riley backed away some more, looking down at the ground slowly. “Be-be-be-c-cause….because I….w-wanted to-to-to le-leave early…” She stammered. “Why?” “I don’t know!” Riley threw her hands in the air before bringing them to her head. “That’s not an answer!” Her mother shouted once again and smacked her in the side of the head with enough force to knock Riley to the side, causing her to almost fall. The small girl fought back tears, hurt, and afraid. She said nothing to the more dominant female and stuck her hands into her pockets.

“Go to school.” Riley's mother had demanded. Without a single word, Riley stalked out the door, happy to get out of there. She walked all the way to the end of the street where her bus stop was, the typical quiet children waited there with their loud offensive rap music playing. Riley’s twitches were more frequent now, and the children closest to her eyed her with wary caution. Feeling their gaze, she casually turned her head and looked at each of them dead in the eyes one by one. Riley’s heart pounded in fear but she had a murderous exterior: a puppy wearing the mask of a wolf. To her satisfaction, the kids slowly moved away from her in slight fear. When the dulled yellow bus came to a screeching stop at the cracked and worn sidewalk, Riley let out a rattling sigh from the depths of her soul. She then dragged herself up the stairs after waiting to be the last one in line, her shoulders were slumped like usual and her black and white sneakers squealed on the wet floor. Riley went to the back of the bus to sit at the one-seater to the right. She plopped herself down, forgetting she was still wearing her bag. She did not care enough to do anything about it and just sat there with her school bag still on. She stared out her window, wondering if life without her mother would be better. Her father did fine without a finance’ before and was doing just fine without a red-headed control-freak in the house. Before her stepmother came into her life, her birth father had hurt her as well. Whenever Riley didn’t use common sense or did not understand he would lose patience and smack her hard in the face, knocking her to the floor. One of the most traumatizing times Riley remembered was the time she made her father so mad he charged up to her with a red face and held her high up the wall by the shirt, screaming at her. She had been terrified and could not speak. Her father now seemed to be doing better and worked most of the time. The vehicle parked with an ear-splitting screech, causing her sensitive ears to hurt and make her jump. “Crap,” She hissed, angry she allowed herself to react. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Not a single pair of eyes held their gaze as they all just looked at her at random. Riley let out a sigh of released tension and hauled herself up, letting out a grunt. She waited to be the last one before exiting the bus, not wanting to get in anyone's way like she always did. When she walked into the tan brick building she held a closed hand up to her chest to help ease her immediate anxiety. Anyone could do anything, at any time anywhere to anyone. Riley was on high alert, darting out of the kids' way. They laughed at her and scoffed, pointing at her and mocking her. This hurt her like an animal trying to claw her from the inside, scratching and gnawing it’s way out: its claws and teeth ripping and tearing at her flesh and organs. She took a deep breath and let it out, closing her eyes for a few pulsations. She hated the way the other people looked at her when they had all of these friends. It was like they were mocking her for being a complete failure in life. Riley hated the way she was treated, being called names like Wolf Girl and Kitty. It was frustrating how she had to act happy about it even when it hurt because she did not want to appear to be the weak and worthless human she was. She hated people, and how hypercritical their nature is. She hated herself for being such a disappointment and for being so weak. The world was punishing her for being powerless and a waste of life. The entire day Riley was lost in her own world, plastering herself in a veil of fake joy and pleasure. She laughed at stuff she did not really find amusing like a second nature. She tried to feel the mood she was faking, but it all only lasted for so long. This cycle was so infuriating. Riley was so done. When she got home from school, Riley stormed to the bathroom totakean immediate shower and brush her teeth.As she washed herself she was imaging her hands red with the blood of her mother. Her twitches were like broken toys while she imagined herself hunting the women in her own house. The knife piercing flesh and splattering crimson onto her rounded face. It was like she could almost feel the thrill of the hunt. The panic in her mother's eyes as she tried to move away. I'm not like you. I'm a survivor. Riley wanted to experience this firsthand. To feel the chains of rules and regulations be snapped and broken to bits and pieces as she fought her way into freedom. Riley thought of a plan. Her mother woke up about thirty minutes after she did. That is when she would strike. Riley thought of all possibilities and risks. At this point Riley was determined to end this suffering and agony. She was distressed. She was desperate. Riley went to bed early, so she could wake up earlier than normal and follow through with this plan. The smile she wore was real for once. Riley looked down at her hands in a hesitation of what she was about to do, and covered her eyes loosely. She could hear her heart in her throat and feel its pulsation. This is happening. This is real. What am I doing? Freeing myself… Riley snickered darkly, merely laughing. She was freeing herself from this virus that infected her life with darkness and distress. Her voice broke the early morning silence, but did not travel far. She padded into the kitchen, slow and careful. Riley was not allowed to leave the bedroom before her alarm went off. In the kitchen she climbed a counter. Riley was four foot nine and generally short for her age, but she had lots of upper and lower body strength from her time rough-housing with the boys at summer camp and from playing sports. On top of the counter was where the knives were held, and she inspected every one to see which one she was most comfortable using. Riley settled on the smallest one: her father always warned her about how sharp it was and to be careful. Riley slipped the knife into her sleeve, still holding it with her little and index finger. She had a hunch that this won't go as planned but ignored this feeling and continued by jumping off the counter and landing with a thud that hurt. She did not make a sound of pain as the tingling melted away. Riley waited in the darkness, her eyes already were adjusted to the black shadows and she did not lose her endless string of patience. Her mother’s door opened with a quiet creak, and a darker shadow was seen as the inside of the room. Riley’s mother silently walked into the kitchen, not seeing her. The woman turned the light on and gasped in surprise. Before she could speak a word Riley slid the knife out of the sleeve and tilted her head at the woman, holding a fierce and hungry eye contact. “What are you doing?” Her mother asked while backing up slightly, her voice cracking from just waking up. Riley did not respond, focusing on the woman's jugular: how it bulged and visibly pulsed in her fear. Riley could feel a violent and strong energy take place in her muscles. Her heart pounded harder and harder, her shoulders raised. Suddenly, Riley jumped with the small blade aimed at her neck and the woman fell backwards and hit her head hard. Riley tried to keep this as quick and short as possible and stabbed her a bunch of times in the chest. Riley panted and looked down at her blood stained hands. She was kneeling down on top of the larger warm corpse, laughing to herself. What about the cops? The thought startled her, but she knew what to do next. Riley got up and walked into the bathroom. She washed her hands, the pink water spiraled down the drain. She looked herself in the mirror once again and walked out of the bathroom with a new sense of confidence. She turned around to look at the body that lay on the floor in a pool of crimson before going into her own room to change into her clothes. Riley walked out of the room wearing blue jeans and her red jacket with the hood on. She walked into the kitchen once again. Riley felt sick to her stomach with a feeling of cold blooded remorse as she stepped over the body. She opened the drawer and reached in to get the candle lighter that sat in the middle of the pile of pens and walked out into the living room. Riley recalled hearing something from the television saying that what she was about to do would give her three minutes to escape the house safely. Riley stood in the room quietly. She eyed the tan couch that sat in front of a large window beside a tall lamp and pulled the trigger of the lighter. Riley walked slowly to the piece of furniture and held out a shaking arm to the fabric. In an instant the flames grew, feasting on the material and spreading at an alarming rate. Riley stepped back, but was too mesmerized to run. The hungry fire made its way all around her, roaring. She could feel her flesh burning and the pain brought her to her senses and she panicked. Before she could try to escape there was a deafening sudden crash : The ceiling collapsed on top of her. Pain jolted through her entire body as she struggled, but she was not strong enough. She never was. Riley’s vision started to blur. The smoke clawed at her throat and lungs and made them feel as though she inhaled sand. She choked and coughed, weezing. Her entire body felt as if it were impaled with millions of knives and needles. All Riley could see was orange and black and her face was in indescribable pain. She flinched back and was in panic, the entire mouth area burning. She could feel every inch of skin burn on her body and salty tasting tears ran down her cheeks. She began fighting the debris for her life, pulling the opposite direction. Whatever was on top of her finally moved and fell to the side and Riley ran once it released her, heart thudding in her chest. Before she had a moment to realize what was happening, more burning small pieces of the roof fell onto her face. Her right eye and cheek was given little mercy as Riley covered the burning flesh with a hand. Riley darted into the kitchen once again in search of her small blade, her legs shaking in her unease. Without giving much thought, she ran out the wooden front door. Her mind was spinning. Her vision was hazy and distorted, turning in directions and moving in ways it was not intended to. Riley’s foot hit something out of the blue and she went down. The entire world spun before going black. Everything was dark and a peaceful quiet, pain dulled and almost non existent. The feeling of peace did not last long. The pain returned as a fierce aggression, making her want to claw at her face. When she snapped open her eyes, the right side of her face was in searing pain. That is when she noticed her surroundings. All around her was an eerie woodland: tall and skinny trees surrounded her. Their colors were a light grey and they seemed to stretch for miles. The sky was an unsettling shade of grey, like smog, and it clouded her view of the sun. Where am I? Riley did not recognize these parts of the woodland, in fact she did not even know what woodland she was in. Riley got up with a struggle and almost fell over, but she caught herself and stood on two swaying legs. She noticed how coarse and dry the soil was, little vegetation grew from it. Riley brought a soiled hand to her face and shrieked, shaken to the core. Where the left side of her lip was supposed to be was burned away, exposing her upper canine and a few upper and lower premolars. Now afraid of what she would discover, she put a trembling hand over her right eye. It felt disgusting: the flesh was hard and crusty, and small bits of her face were burned to the bone on the bridge of her eyebrow. How ironic. She thought to herself, feeling self conscious about her new look. She did not want to even know the full monstrosity of it for herself. She was not ready. In the corner of her one good eye, she saw movement and spun around. They were gone. “Wh-wh-who’s th-there?” She called, breaking the evening silence with her ragged voice, spitting as she spoke due to the missing part of her lip. Fear slowly creeped within her, and Riley started to tremble while breathing heavily. Voices started to interfere with her thoughts-intercepting and mixing them up. In her own confusion she felt a sudden surge of anger. Kill them.Kill them all. They did this to me. They deserve death. “Hey, kid.” A tired voice said out of the blue, startling her and breaking her away from her trance. Riley turned westward to the voice to see a scottish man standing up in front of a tree. He seemed to be the average height of a grown man, and looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His messy short red hair was unkempt, as if he stopped caring about his looks, and his blue eyes had heavy dark rings underneath them. On his pale face he had freckles, and his expression was eternal exhaustion and distress. He wore a white short sleeved shirt that had small dried blood stains splattered on it as if he had gotten into a fight. His pants were soiled blue jeans, muddy and torn at the knees and ankles. The man had black fingerless gloves with pieces of metal on top of the knuckles, which glinted dully in the almost nonexistent light. He started to walk over to her, but then stopped suddenly. The tired look in his eye melted away to a look of absence she could not explain. They just stood there, looking at each other blankly as time seemed to zone out. Then she saw it. Behind the red haired man was a humanoid entity that shook her to the core. It was tall,slender, and ghost white.It would have possibly looked human if it had what it was lacking: a face. Its clothing was a black tuxedo and a red bowtie. It approached from behind the man steadily, and Riley backed away before sprinting away as fast as she could. Her arms pumped and her legs pounded as she ran away. Behind her she could hear the footsteps of her pursuer, and she could not help but look behind her. Right behind her was the man, his eyes crazed. He was panting heavily and looked determined to do whatever it was he was going to do to her. Tears welled in Riley’s eyes and she ran harder, but she was already growing weak and tired. Her decrease in speed gave her hunter the opportunity to grab her arm and pull her backwards. She yelped but before she could make any more noise he covered her mouth with elbow. He held her tight, and her squirming was useless. As she squirmed, she began to tire herself out. Her vision began to go fuzzy and a darkness spread over her world : She was passing out. The last thing was aware of before the darkness consumed her was that she was dropped and the tall being was standing over her wearing a red tie. Riley was sure it was wearing a bowtie before, but was too tired to care and accepted her uncertain fate as she slipped from consciousness. After all she was worthless. She had no purpose. [To be continued.]