Because I'm feeling a tad insecure as of late, I'm reverting to justifiying these stories with little start up comments, so... This is a story that I forced out of myself, early morning too, I think, to match the three lines 'So no, I'm not that sweet and innocent and gentle and kind, and no, you're not the first person to find this out, but don't worry, it won't hurt that much'. Need less to say, it could have been a million times better.
ILLUSION
1999
Hi, my name is Mary, nice to meet you. I am doing my A-levels this year, yes I'm doing five whole A2s. Well I'm confident you see, because I got all A*s in my GCSE's two years ago. The subjects, they were English Language and Literature, French, Geography, History, IT, Latin, Math, RE and Science Dual Award? This year well, I'm studying Biology, Business, Latin, Math and Sociology. I hope to go to Cambridge next year and study Law and Accounts. I think I'll get in because I have 100% attendance and punctuality and I am liked within the school community in which I am very active. I hardly ever go out, if I do it's to visit a friend or member of the family. In my free time I like to sit down with some scones and a cup of tea and read a Jane Austin or other similar Novel. I go to bed at about 9 O'Clock after having a well-balanced supper, watching the news and usually some documentary and having a shower.
Then I dream. And this dream is the reality. The wolf behind the sheep's clothing. Me really, not that you would know what to believe, do you believe anyway?
This world is pathetic! Ever heard Limp Bizkit's song 'Hot Dog'? Well that pretty much explains how I feel about the world.
Every night they go out in their pink fluffy belts, come on you can't honestly call them skirts. They screw the first male in sight, (sluts) and then spend the rest of their lives sitting at home as gossiping couch potatoes, when actually if they hadn't been such whores at least they could get a job as prostitutes. Well, I guess that's what happens when you go to an all girls Catholic secondary school.
I don't have a partner and honestly I don't need one. The few times I do go out clubbing or whatever, is when I am very and I emphasise 'very' bored, which actually can happen quite often. Like when I have leant my favourite album to my best backstabbing friend or when the water is broken or the electricity cut off.
The lads there see me as a challenge; I'm still a virgin. There're pathetic. Wearing their Rockports, Levi jeans, Addidas tops, pathetic. They tell me all about themselves but they don't even find my name. They'll take me to their house, give me another drink, and take me to their room. Then they'll turn around to dim the lights, and then they turn to me. They can only just see the glint of the blade in my hand and smile on my face. Definitely my favourite part. Mutilating their bodies beyond recognition. Have you ever seen some-ones intestines? Don't really want to cut them open.
So, no I'm no that sweat and innocent and gentle and kind,
And no, you're not the first person to find this out,
But don't worry, it won't hurt that much.
I lied, but doesn't everyone? Guess I'm not that perfect after all.
"The headlines today. Yet another body has washed up on the bank of the River Thames. The police say they are dealing with a serial killer, twenty-seven in the last three months and counting". Like I said I get very bored, very often.
That was the original, I'm sure that you now know why I rewrote it. This is as far as I've got with the rewrite, and it really is a rewrite.
ILLUSION
2003
I have a story to tell. It's not really my story to tell but the girl who this story belongs to cannot tell it anymore.
There was this girl I knew, well not really knew, I just knew her name and could connect that name with her appearance and actions. On her own she was quite a quiet girl but she could be quite bubbly and unexpectedly loud among her own group of friends who she spent free time in school with and sometimes outside. Just like every other girl really.
I guess I can only see it now that it's over. This girl's spirit just seemed to fade throughout the last three years. I'm no better than the others are; even when I did and I knew that others did as well, none of us did anything about it.
Maybe I could argue that how was I supposed to notice when I wasn't at all close to her and that if I had taken any action I may have only made things worse. I don't know what started it, maybe she broke up with a boyfriend or something, and maybe she had problems at home. Thinking about these things now isn't going to change anything.
Slowly she became more distant from everyone, although I'm sure there were some from which she couldn't distant herself any further from. Maybe she had a drug problem or mental condition.
She was perfect, maybe a little quiet but she had got up to her last year in sixth form with top grades for all her subjects, near maximum scores too. You never heard tales of her getting drunk or into fights or of her insulting anyone. Everyone happened to know that she had a few guys trying to get with her and a bit more. I told you she was perfect, that included her looks.
Maybe she got bored of being perfect, of always being relied on and being complemented.
For the past three years there had been an increasing number of murders of people around the area, steadily spaced out so that as soon as the hype about one murder died another occurred. The majority of the bodies were found in rivers, with entrails hanging out, not that many pictures were shown.
Maybe she just wanted to prove the police wrong for trying to catch her and that she could outwit anyone, challenging someone to take her from whatever it was that made her do such a thing.
Eventually the police did outwit her and defying them she turned to escape, only to be shot by some rookie who had particularly good aim that night.
The culprit behind the twenty-seven murders was killed. Police blitzed her home and interrogated her family who insisted that they killed, murdered, the wrong person, their daughter could never do such a thing. Everything about her from home and school suggested that her family were right. However, in all her books was the sentences 'So, no I'm no that sweat and innocent and gentle and kind. And no, you're not the first person to find this out. But don't worry, it won't hurt that much'. Sometimes there was more, the occasional doodle inclusive.
Now I look back it seems obvious, okay so everyone noticed the change that went through her, but no one ever imagined that something so dire would happen, especially to someone like her.
"Who was this girl?" you ask. Don't worry you didn't know her. Evidently no one did, not even herself.
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