The Face of Evil

 In my dream, I was running in a dead field, caked with dried blood. Tree's were everywhere and getting set on fire. I ran for my life, dodging falling tree's and leaping over stones. I pumped my legs as fast as they could go and panting hard. I stopped abruptly at the sound of a girl,  screaming for help. for my help. Looking around, and saw only destruction and death.
 What was going on?'  I thought.

             I could hear the girl's screams  pounding in my ear but I couldn't figure out where. I turned and looked around desperately until I spotted something. It was a tree. A fallen one with a moving black shape underneath.  I ran over to it and saw that  the black shape was a person that was trapped underneath it. I tried to to pull it off of the girl, but it wouldn't budge. finally, i grabbed a branch and used it as a lever to try and lift it off of the girl, just enough so she can crawl away and into the hands of safety. 
"Hurry..."  The girl croaked. I leaned with all my might and the tree started to move. 
'She's gonna make it...She's!'  
I kept telling myself that and then I was almost done. When I had the tree high enough, I watched the girl start to crawl out.  

           Something hit me on the back of my neck and I fell to the ground. Pain exploded  in my neck, black spots danced in front of my eyes and I soon found myself unable to move.

Oh God no...

I tried to get up, to walk away-no, run away, but it wasn't working. my ears were buzzing with something that kept me from concentrating. What was it?

        "Oh help me! somebody please help me!"  The girl yelled this time. Only...something was different. there was something about the way she was calling for help that made my skin crawl.
The girl was mocking me.
          "Oh! Somebody! Please! Help me from this fallen tree, because you sure can't! HA HA HA!"
Laughter. That's what I heard. Laughter of my failure to save the girl who was trapped under the tree. Failure to move.
Failure to stay alive.
           The girl cackled from above me. I heard the crunch as somebody walked around me and knelt right next to me. strong hands turned my paralyzed body so that I was on my back. I looked around, trying to find a way out of here, a route out of this madness, alive. but i couldn't. Smoke was everywhere, and  it was so thick, that I  couldn't see. 
           "Aw. Well, if it isn't Little-Miss-I-get-Everything." The voice sneered at me.
            "Who's there?"  I was the one croaking now. Something collided hard against my stomach, knocking out most of the breath that I had  left and turning it into oblivion. A face peered into mine. It was a kind face, with soft features; stormy gray eyes and long black hair that was pulled back into a braid. But I knew better. I knew that this so called 'kind face' was the source of all of this madness, it was the voice of the girl's cries. It was the face of evil itself.
"Boo." She said with a smirk.
It was my face.
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I woke up feeling like crap and that wasn't even the half of it. My head was pounding, as if someone was hammering something on the inside wall of my skull, my eyelids were heavier that concrete, even with my mouth closed, I could tell that my breath smelled bad.

‘Stupid dreams’, I thought as I got out of the shower. I quickly dried my hair and then walked to my room to put my clothes on. when I was done, I trudged down the stairs and pulled up a chair at the table. I lay my head on the table and closed my eyes. 

‘This is only gonna take...just’  I thought.

" Are you okay?" My butler William asked me, waking me up. I looked up at him, with sleep still in my eyes. 

"Yup. Fantastic."

He wasn't convinced.  

"May I suggest that you should go to bed earlier and not at midnight." I shrugged and watched him pour milk into my cereal. I picked up my spoon and played around with my cereal until it turned into slush.


I got up and grabbed my bag and was almost out the door until Patricia stopped me.

"Where, young lady, do you think your going?" She scolded me. Slowly turning around I faced  her.  Patricia was our housekeeper and she insisted us to call her that. She had brown hair that was always in a tight bun, and squinty little eyes that watch your every move like a hawk.  She's always scolding me no matter what. The ironic thing is, she has laugh lines on her face and in the 7 years I've lived here, I've never seen her even crack a smile.   

"" I said, like it wasn't obvious.  Her frown deepened and she looked me over.

"Mrs. Nate, you look like you're going to a funeral. Go upstairs and put some color on." I looked down at myself. Black tank-top, black skinny jeans, black combat boots, black hoody, black hair.   


I opened my mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Patricia.

"Go." She commanded. I didn't argue, because you can't argue with her, and went upstairs to my room.

            My room is huge, just like our house. It's got a wide wooden canopy bed, like something a  king  and queen might have. The curtains were a purple velvet color, just like the carpet and the drapes on my terrace. The walk in closet was huge, with a little sofa in it  and a small Beauvoir with 68 different shades of nail polish that I don't even use. My closet is filled with the newest styles and trends, and even some that haven't even come out yet. My closet get re-clothed with different clothes everyday. I had gasped and looked at all the clothes when I first came here, and now I scoffed. It's not like I'll wear these clothes. I had a huge chandelier and high ceilings and Pristine white walls. I even had a fireplace and large desk where I do my homework. Across the room was the door to my bathroom.

               Let me tell you something, my room is huge because my grandmother and I are filthy rich. My grandmother is Elisa Simon and she was an international actress, and a professional singer and dancer when she was just 16. She performed all over the world, from Alaska to Russia, and she even performed at sold out concerts. Her whole life, she has always had sold out concerts. I'm rich because...well, if you want to hear this story...sit down, if not, skip to the next paragraph because this is gonna take a while.

               My parents are Richard and Cosme Nate. He was a well known Lawyer, in the Beverly Hills, while she was an actress, just like her mother: my grandmother.  Not only that, she was also a movie director and unlike my grandmother, she was an international supermodel. My parents met in a movie screening and 9 months later... guess who popped out? They were forced to get married and take care of me because they didn't want bad press.

              Everything was swell, until I turned 5. My dad (I still shudder when I call him that), became abusive and  overly possessive.  He didn't want anyone in a 2 kilometer radius of me or my mother. We were his, he had made that clear. When I was almost six, I had to start work for everything I owned. He threw out all my clothes and made me do odd jobs, like clean cars, and mow lawns and once, he even made me paint 2 houses. I was like a kindergarten-sized Cinderella.

In a year, with all my savings, I had bought 2 shirts, 1 pair of jeans and a pair of dirty shoes, no socks.  

                One day, I was 3 minutes late, walking home in the pouring rain, shivering from head to toe in below freezing weather, with only a thin sweater to keep me warm when my father snapped. He started to hit me, over and over again until I was a small bloody blob of skin and bones. My mother (bless her soul) tried to stop the bastard, but couldn't. Instead, he picked her up, and threw her across the room. She crumpled to the ground and the damned Beauvoir fell on top of her fragile body, fracturing her skull and breaking her spine. My drunken father, realizing what he had done, started at me again, telling me that it was my fault that she had died. When I couldn't take it anymore, I went limp,  pretending to slip in and out of consciousness. He paused, stopped, and got off. Then he started to write something on a piece of paper, and then pulled out a gun... you know the rest.  

             Police later found that piece of paper and learned that he had given all of his money and life possessions to me, so that his stuff would live on, even if he didn't. That greedy jerk.

             I ended up living with FBI Agent Kristina Ramsey until I was 10.
She died when I was 14. She was driving to work and her car blew up. A street junkie had done it because just days earlier, she'd arrested an alleged drug dealer. Special Services then gave me over to my grandmother  and I've been here ever since.  After that, I had vowed to never love anybody ever again. Look where love had gotten me in life. My dear mother was dead, my adopted mother was dead, I didn't want my grandmother dead too. So, in order to protect myself, I've been following in my adopted mother's footsteps and learned hand to hand combat, karate, Ju-Jitsu, and even Tai-Chi, archery and air rifling, so that I'll be sure to get into the FBI. I wanted to help others, just like my mom and Kristina had helped me.

            I've also never told anyone where I live and who I really am to save them a life of shame and humiliation. I mean come on, ME, of all people, the daughter of the worlds most beloved couple (after Kate and that dude from Titanic, of course.)

          Are there time's I just want to rub it in some peoples' snooty face's? YES!  Are there times I just want to run them over with one of my 26 horses? YES!  Would I ever do that to somebody? No.
I shook the memory out of my head as I walked to my closet and grabbed the first color that caught my eye in my scarf rack  (yellow) and put it on. I rushed back downstairs and sighed when I saw that Patricia was gone. I rushed out the door and down the driveway and up the street.  

            It was a peaceful morning here in the small town of Yette, the birds were chirping and the smell of Gretchen's Bakery filled the air. So....I did a look-see, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, in the corner, was Leo DeLuisa, reading a book and looking totally zen. There was an untouched Latte on the table in front of him and I sighed. Great.

I quickly turned and walked out the door and started up the street towards school before he could see me.

            'Too late. He's  already seen me.' I thought. I heard footsteps and held my breath when he touched my shoulder.

            "Hey." He had on that grin again and I sighed.


              "Nice scarf." he said, still grinning. I played along.

              "Thanks. It's designer." I added.

               "Oh. Is it?"

                "Yup. It's...Wait..." I took my scarf off, looked at the tag and blushed.

               "It's a Jean Jarrod."  Jean Jarrod was one of the most known fashion designers in all of England. Hopefully, since he's a guy, he won't know who Jean Jarrod is.


              "Really? My Aunt has his whole collection and I've never seen that before." Leo told me. He frowned and I noticed that he had a small scar over his left eyebrow. It was cute.

            "That's because it hasn't come out yet." I admitted.


             "Elisa Simon is my grandmother  ." I blurted out.  He looked puzzled.





               "Nobody know's this but you, so if you don't mind, It would be awesome if you didn't tell -" He looked at me, a twinkle in his eye.

              "Sure. I can keep a secret." That's when I realized that we had reached Yette's high school. Great.  Another day of torture.

               "Hey, I'll see you later, okay?" I looked at him. He was grinning again.

                "You sure that grin isn't taped to your face and contagious?" I asked him, grinning.

                 "Might as well be, eh?" I laughed and hit his arm. "See ya later."


                  I watched him leave and stood there for a moment and smiled. Then, shaking my head, I left to go find Cat to set things straight.

The End

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