Whisperia's Point of view
"Drake, I can't do this!" I said to him as we walked to my room in the east wing, the third floor, filled with torches, a beautiful wine red carpet, and chocolate doors.
Drake didn't say anything for a bit, we just kept walking, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, until we reached my door, with a gold knob, and a deep rich silver color outlining creases in the door.
"Why...do you think you...can't?" he asked slowly, avoiding my eyes. Then he looked up, he was grinning. He was so happy. His eyes were warmer than I'd seen them, and I almost melted from surprise.
"You were great!!" he cried, "So...cruel," his eyes glimmered, and the back of my eyes began to sting, "So...powerful!!" He reached towards me, holding my cheek in his surprisingly warm hand, "So..." he paused, smiling, "Evil."
As soon as the word left his lips, he bent his head till our foreheads met, I sighed, and we both closed our eyes, breathing in each other's scent, the familiar smell of mint, and blood.
He spoke again, but this time, it was in my head, the overwhelming scent of mandarin oranges filling my mouth, a bright light of orange and pink overwhelming my eyelids.
"I will always be here. There is nothing to fear, nothing at all. You were perfect, just stay as my evil queen, and everything will end soon enough,"
His words were gentle, a emotion I rarely got from Drake. When we were alone, he was an entirely different person, playful, and warm. Then, with the others around us, when revenge glinted in his eyes, he was cold, harsh, and he seemed to put up a wall from the weird, and us he seemed to push me away from him, confining his revenge to the safety of his own mind.
I smiled at him, opening my eyes and the taste of nutella filled my mouth, I looked at Drake, his eyes were filled with pride for me. Me!
I smiled unsteadily, all I could see was Dean's expression and his eyes. That pain for the girl, the hate and horror for me but...also...pity. He pitied me. Me!
"Whisperia!! Whisper!!" Drake snapped at me, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I looked at him, eyes wide. His eyes were taking on that same cold glint and I knew he was ranting at me while I was in cloud 9.
"Were you even listening to me??" he asked angrily.
"Y-yes?" I said, cautiously.
He nodded, "Good." He gave me a suspicious look, "For real?"
I glared at him, "Really." I said.
"Your on board then?"
"All the way." I said, consciously stopping myself from saying 'huh?'
Drake smiled, a genuine smile that I honestly couldn't remember. One that was an open book, eyes of a calm ocean, not cold ice, but warmth and honesty.
He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me into a hug. I froze before leaning into it, soaking up the comfort that used to be familiar, but was now strange.
"It'll all work out. You'll see." He said smiling, as he pulled away. "it'll all work out... Rojita." He said, chucking me under the chine with his thumb and forefinger. I grinned, little red, I hadn't heard that in a while.
"Is there anything I...need to do?" I asked, biting the inside of my mouth, running my tongue over healed cuts from a while ago, when my habit was a form of nervousness.
"Just be evil" he said simply, shrugging, smiling smugly.
I nodded, grimacing. "Um...G'night Drake" I said. Drake tilted his head, smiling curiously.
"Night." He said, taking a step back, rejection coursing thru his eyes as he turned and left down the hall, his hands tucked into his pockets.
I waited till he was gone, then I slipped into my room, looking at the soft light, canopy bed with Japanese silk sheets, and the coffee colored carpets.
I sank to the floor against the door, cradling my knees to my chest. I listened through the door, the silence of the floor comforting. Then, a tear, only one at first sipped down my face. Then another, and another. And soon they were flowing covering my sight, and soon I was fighting back sobs, the screams of that girl echoing my head, her choking, the rush of power, and Dean, oh Dean, his fear, and that look of pure hare and disgust.
I was scared.
Scared of the girl that was I.
The girl that wasn't me.
The girl I saw when I woke up in the morning and saw the mirror.
The girl who fed off of the power, the fear of others.
And loved that feeling-the rush of power, and the fear of others.
Loved that evil inside myself, but hated myself for loving the Evil.
But all I knew, for sure, is that Evil, Evil is an ugly color.