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2. Walking

Vevina walked. She walked down the dark cobblestone street, running her long, spindly fingers through her electric blue hair. The winter air was kissing her cheeks in a flirtatious manner, leaving a slight burning sensation behind. With every step, she tried to forget a memory, tried to forget her past so she could start anew.

But there was no such thing as starting over in life.

No matter who you are or what you do, your past will follow you, like a ghost. It will haunt you, gnawing at the back of your mind, tugging at the strings in your heart until you are so hollowed out, you may as well be dead.

But that didn't stop Vevina from trying.

42 East Street was her past, her present, and most unfortunately, her future. But that did not mean she couldn't put it off. And she would put it off for as long as possible, even if that meant death.

She didn't have that much to live for, really. She could disappear tomorrow and nobody would care; her abusive father had died when her mother had shot him though the head and her brother had died when he got shot in the horrors of the battle field. Vevina had never attended school, it was overrated. What was the point of learning things that have already been discovered anyways? Exactly. She didn't have friends, she wasn't someone who could have them and her mother... well her mother lived on 42 East Street and she knew it, deep down in the knot of her darkened soul or at least that was what Henry The Murdered indicated when he handed her her mother's famous string of pearls. He had been her secretary for god knows what and somehow, he had gotten on Vevina's mother's bad side.

That's what happened when you made 'her' angry.

She didn't realize she was running until a bead of sweat dripped down the small of her neck and her breathing had become horse and strained. Her throat felt like knives were scraping at the insides as her legs were lead. It started raining, no, pouring, is a better way to put it. Interesting how the weather corresponds with her mood.


'It' flashed through her mind. 'It' being the memory of her mother shooting her father on the day of her ninth birthday, also known as 'the running day.' She had been sitting in the doorway of the rugged apartment, hiding behind a white door that was nearly off its hinges. There was first a subtle argument, then yelling, then silence. Vevina had often thought of it as a song, like the ones in an orchestra. The main crescendo, of course, was when the silence was broken with one big...


Death. He had stood next to the young girl with brown, mousy hair that day, watching with amusement. Vevina had just stared, her lips tightly sealed. The shot, the boom, the dead. His body had arched back, his eyes had bulged, his mouth had gurgled with blood right before he fell to the white floor, staining it with the crimson gold that flowed out of his lifeless body. 

Bang. Boom. Death.

She ran faster, harder, her breath making little angels in the air. Then, she saw it. The bridge, the sound of rushing water eating at jagged rocks. But mostly, death. Maybe Vevina could fly, she could try at least, she could end it all. This world obviously didn't want her so she could just leave, couldn't she? Vevina was sure there was someone out there, beyond the grave, that could help her. So she inhaled sharply, her lungs still feeling like balloons from her run. Stepping up onto he stone bridge, she looked down into the icy depth of the water as it whispered, despite its rushing, "Come."

She spread her arms and closed her eyes, not wanting a lasting image of this hellish place called Earth. Now she would fly, now she would be free.

If only she was that lucky.

"Don't do it." A lazy voice lolled from behind her.

The trance broke, the vision shattered. Vevina would't be soaring anywhere today. She didn't reply but simply moved her eyes a quarter of an inch to see who was willing to talk her out of her wants. A man, no older than 18, probably, leaned easily against a wall, a cigarette hanging loosely out his mouth, a bottle of alcohol sitting, looking bored, in his hands. 

He looked stupid, useless, just another drunk teen trying to find something interesting to do on a Friday night. But something told her not to be so rash on her judgements. Something told her to think.

"And why shouldn't I?" Vevina questioned tightly.

He laughed loosely. "Because I say so."

*A note: Lexx Darkson is a very abnormal teen, no matter how cocky and idiotic he might seem. Also, he had just found his pair.


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