The GirlsMature

Thurman pressed his back against the wall, staring at the little girls in terror and confusion. They were small. They only looked four. They shared some of Melantha's features: her black eyes, her straight nose and sharp cheekbones. But where Melantha's hair was red, the girls' hair was blonde, white almost.

One of the girls, on the left, looked relatively normal - except for her blood sprayed hair. What could be dangerous about her? Then she started singing. Her songs were of blood, and torture, and murder. This girl had a sweet voice, yet the words she sang were poisoned against humanity. She was known as The Singer among the guards. Only her mother and sisters knew her name: Riya Thunders. The sweet little girl that no one ever suspects for murder.

The girl in the middle had scars on her face and hands. Her lips were a cruel grin. Her eyes were different from the others, the black iris had what looked like a purple shimmer to them. This girl was the most dangerous. Her skin could secrete what her nails and hair contained: a highly toxic alkaloid that causes burning, confusion, dizziness, headaches, vomiting, breathing difficulty, paralysis, convulsions and death. She was known as The Toxin, though her true name was Wolfsbane Thunders. The hazardous girl who everyone suspected, simply because of her appearance.

The remaining girl, on the right, had thorns for fingernails. The thorns were long and thin. She had long scars down her cheeks, probably from the thorns themselves. She smiled. Her teeth were thorns too, shorter but no more blunt. They were prepared to tear anything apart. She was The Thorn, but her real name was Kacia Thunders. She was the girl who everybody feared.

They proceeded towards Thurman. He trembled before the little girls. Wolfsbane spread her toxin across her skin. It gleamed in the bright light. Thurman squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the rest of his blood flowing from him.

Riya – The Singer – was the first the approach. She sung quietly into his ear. Images of the girl killing him popped into his mind, not of his own accord. The girl could penetrate his mind with her song. The girl in his head turned to face him, looking right at him. The dream-girl was singing too, but it was a different song. The two girls sung their different tunes in harmony.

Thurman didn’t notice The Toxin coming to him, he heard her footsteps but they didn’t register. His mind was being pulled into the first girl’s song; she was sucking the life out of him simply by singing. That was a power to covet. The Toxin pushed her sister aside and started telling him what was going to happen. She was telling to him how exactly he was going to die, by her hand. She wasn’t going to kill him, she’d been told not to. But she hadn’t been told she couldn’t taunt him.

On the other side was The Thorn. Her spikes slid down his face, cutting the skin. The spears on her fingers were so sharp he didn’t notice them. She started tapping his cheek. Each time she hacked at the flesh, blood spattered into the air.

He was ignoring her, hoping he’d actually managed to get to sleep and this was just another one of his twisted nightmares. But no, he knew it was real. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t believe his own lie. He screamed when The Thorn speared his cheek. Her nail went right through the skin, into his mouth. She started moving the thorn around which made Thurman screech more.

He didn’t even hear the little girl’s giggle, his shrieks were too loud. She continued to cut at his face. When she tired of that, she moved to his chest, where she carved ‘The Thorn’. Thurman was growing weak, he was going to die. He didn’t want to die. He risked opening his eyes. He saw Melantha leaning against the bloodied wall. His blood dotted her face, hair and clothes. She didn’t seem to care. He gathered his remaining strength to speak.

“I’ll tell you,” he whispered submissively.

She smiled in victory. “Girls,” she called.

The girls whined but moved away, and followed their mother back through the hatch and down the dark corridor.

The End

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