Sister to sorrow, the bride of eternal pain is Rave. 5’5, she looks like a smaller version of her sibling. Her face is like fine china, smooth and pathetically pale, with sea-green eyes accentuated with thick smoky black eye makeup. Her hair is ashen & reaches her mid-back in braids tied with red & black ribbons. Her slender frame is clad in baggy gray pants, a snug black top with the silhouette of a raven on the back in red & a knee-length black PVC coat. On her shoulder is a beat-up slate gray rucksack & in her grasp a much abused sk8board. Her black painted nails contrast with her paleness. She wears a velvet choker on her neck,a tighter silver one with the word PANDEMONIUM etched in old Gothic writing& on a long silver chain is an eagle’s claw clasping a crystal. Her only piercing is a small diamante stud in her nose. She looks about 15. ~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~++~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~++~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~++~~~~
Bought and sold by a wealthy couple when I was just a baby in order to pay off some debts that mommie dearest and mommie's boyfriend Devon had. Fifteen thousand dollars were payed by the LaCroix's for a pretty little child that they could never love.
Raised in a wealthy house in the French Quarter of New Orleans, I'd try to escape the hating tongues of my mother and the quick-to-hit hands of my father, by staying out of the house most hours of the day and night.
I befriended a small bunch of skater kids that I would often run into on Bourbon Street. Being the only girl surrounded by boys my age that needed to get away from parents they hated as well, I was taken under their wings and taught how to skate. My very first deck was given to me by the one boy that I would forever cherish in my heart, my best friend, Zillah.
I was regarded like a tomboy, and my parents hated that fact that I didn’t look like a 'perfect little LaCroix lady'. I went from being treated like trash and being abused verbally and mentally to being beaten with mother's high-heals and being locked up in the a dark, dingy attic by dear old dad.
People of prestige and modest wealth, no one in my neighbourhood would ever believe that Claudia and Armand LaCroix could cause a child they supposedly wanted so much a living hell.
I didn't know I had a sibling, until the day I found a letter addressed to mother that more or less stated the whole horrible truth. If I hated them before, I despised them now, and the mother that had given birth to me. All I wanted now was to find my sibling. She was the only thing that was important to me.
I didn't have to search; perhaps she heard my silent prayer and came to me like some wretched angel coming to save me. In the dead of the night Zenia crept into my room and the second our eyes met I knew who she was. Before I knew what was happening Zenia had crept me out of the house, hushing me as we headed down the elaborate staircase.
The stench of blood was all around me, like a thick suffocating blanket, the walls of out pristine white living room were tainted in red...blood red.... the blood of Claudia and Armand. Their bodies laid on the floor like rag dolls in a grotesque way, looking as if their bones had been broken. Armand’s shotgun lay next to his bloody head. As Zenia ushered me out i caught the last glimpse of missing pinkies on each of the LaCroix's.
The house was set ablaze, the flames inching up and licking the night sky. The sound of sirens were the last thing I heard as my sister and I fled into the darkness on our way to Necropolis where I was to start my new life as a Morrison.
Links
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Edgar Allan Poe
Shadow's Deck
Zenia Morrison's Page
