"On your knees," I command the wild-eyed girl in front of me. She is small and pale but stands her ground, fists clenched white against her sides. I wait patiently. She burns under the fiery gaze of our witnesses. We watch like hungry wolves, waiting for her to crumble under the pressure. Slowly her face flushes more until, shaking, she collapses, broken. I smile and stand. With every step of my lipstick red shoes she flinches, the heels clicking against the concrete floor. I stop just inches away from her lowered face. Reaching out my hand I twist her glossy ebony hair around one finger and pull her, none too gently, towards me. Everyone presses forward, analyzing my every move. I lean down to her ear, close enough to hear her quick breaths and see pearls of sweat forming on her forehead. "Isn't that better?" I ask, an edge in my whisper.
"You see, I always get what I want. It's a fact."
Her eyes meet mine for only a second but it's long enough for me to see the flash of denial, the hardening of her features. I slap her. I slap her hard enough for her neck to crack as her head twists, hard enough for her eyes to water and her cheek swell. I slap her hard enough to completely break her. Only then does she start to cry, sobbing as the audience parts long enough for her to run off. Clarence sneaks me a look as the crowd evaporates. "What?" I snap at him. He raises his eyebrows.
"I just want to know, was that really necessary? What did she do to you?"
I grin my reputable grin, the one that no one wants to see because they know something they don't really want to hear always follows it.
"Nothing really." I say, because I know Clarence won't judge me. He can't.
"I was mostly just bored. But she did bump into me."
Clarence frowns. I shrug innocently.
"What else is there to do to entertain myself? If you have a suggestion I'd love to hear it."
With that I sashay into the town square, a brooding Clarence on my heels.
My life is complex. I am responsible for many things, but the worse things were never personally done by me, so it's all rather indirect. My life is not mine. My life belongs to the demon inside me, the selfish beast that tyrannically controls the reins of power with glee. My life is not what it seems. My life overtakes me as a person and sometimes veers out of my control. That is the only thing a person ever needs to know about me. That and my name, Roslyn.