Dreams! Ah, dreamy, dreamy, dreamy dreams! Dreams are often said to be our subconcious mind's way of telling us things. Well, if that is true, then i wonder what the following dream I'm going to narrate (dreamt on the way to Lancaster) says about my subconcious mind and me. This is how it happened:

"Ah, Lancaster. It will always be one of my favourite places.

I have visited all too many on my, er, pursuits, to pick one, though that barn would have inched its way to the top.*sigh* Oh, well.

So as I rode down the street, my new cat sitting next to me, pawing away ( I swear, that cat was nearly as annoying as her previous owner in the beginning), I realised that things weren't all that bad.

Okay, they were bad. I had killed two men (of sorts) in the past hour, and two more in the hours before that. Four men in one day. That was pretty bad.

But not that bad.

I had money (mun-ney!). That was one major issue solved. People will do anything if they see enough of green stuff that folds.

So on the way, I decided I was tired. I saw a boarding house - that was before the motels came along - and decided to stop. The police, I figured, were still blissfully unaware of my latest activities, and I could rest for one night before starting out early the next day.

If I'd had any inkling to what was going to happen, I would have slept in the carriage itself, to hell with the cold.

Or maybe not.

So there I was, banging the door to this boarding house, getting more annoyed - and more chilled - by the second. I had half a mind of scaring whoever it was behind the door when they finally did open it by trying the she-devil look again, but as I was contemplating that, the door was thrown open by another strange character (like I hadn't had enough of those already).

He (yes, again) was taller than me, and rather strangely, very dark. His clothes were strange even if they hadn't been tattered. And then, as if he couldn't see me, he yelled, "Whozair?"

I winced. Stupidity was clearly making its way down the evolutionary ladder. Why else would this man see me, and still ask ME, ZXY HEMENDIP, who I was?

It's like they never learn.

"I'm right here," I reminded him, holding my cat in his face and watching with satisfaction as he jumped backward, sneezing.

"I'm Zxy Hemendip," I continued. "And I want a room for the night."

He peered at me. "What did you tell?"

And I died. At the hands of this man's grammar.

Okay, I didn't. I'm not easy to kill, as you may have figured out.

But I did gag.

"I SAID, my name is Zxy and I want a room for the night."

"For the night?"

I was already imagining banging his head against the wall behind him, his blood dripping to the floor....

It was hot. \m/

"Yes," I said, shaking my head. No. No. Not one more. Not tonight.

Plus, this man didn't deserve a death at my hands. He was too lowly.

"What kind of room?" he asked with mild interest.

"What kind do you have?" I imitated his tone.

"There is a small one, and a big one, and a bigger one...and one with a man."

I blinked. "With a man?"

"Yes. And one with a woman too."

This man was officially on my crazy-people list.

Then I understood. "You're a pimp!"

Well, that wasn't exactly what I said. The word 'pimp' hadn't been coined yet,
but I forget what I called him.

Anyway, he said, smiling hugely, "Yes. You're the smart woman."

The one and only.

"No thanks. Can I have a normal room please? The big one."

"Okay."

Then he went around this big wooden table that had an old name plate that said Jared
Arsenic (ew!! Though the arse bit fit) and pulled out a pen, thumbed through a few papers in a leisurely manner, telling me about how he was a beggar by day and a pimp by night, as if I had all the time in the world. Keeping me, ZXY HEMENDIP, waiting.

I don't wait. Believe me. I don't.

I am patient, generally. Really. But not when I am cold and holding an overexcited
cat and on the run after killing four people in one evening.

"Can you hurry, please? I intend to actually sleep tonight," I said through gritted teeth. Was it too much to ask for a nice, understanding concierge? Apparently so.

He looked up, surprised by this revelation. "Really? Why? I'm coming up too."

I was blank. Then I realised I was being propositioned. I gagged again.

"That," I spat, "is disgusting. Why would I want that?"

"Because," his brow furrowed in obvious confusion, "you are a prostitute, right?

That's why you don't want man or woman."

My shoulders sagged as I gave up. "I am going to kill you."

He took that as a good-natured comment, and laughed. Laughed weird, like a cackle mixed with grunting. It only infuriated me more. Why do people who laugh like that exist?

Then I looked up, and he stopped abruptly. I could imagine how much more fearsome I looked in the flickering candlelight.

"Madam Zxy...??"

He looked so freaked out, I swear that if I hadn't killed him, he would have died of a heart-attack anyway.

I saved him that trouble.

My hands locked, claw-like, around his oily hair (blech), and before the man could comprehend what exactly was happening to him, I was bashing his head over and over into the wall.

Within a few minutes, the picture of my imagination was in front of me. He was slumped against the wall, his expression saying 'What just happened?' as if he still couldn't figure out that he'd been offed.

Oh, well.

Another man dead.

On the upside, Hilda seemed calmer. She went around trotting in the pools of blood, leaving pawprints all over the place.

It was so beautiful! I actually wiped away a tear! Me!

Then, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. I mean, killing five people is tiresome.

So I went upstairs, found an empty room, locked the door and went to bed.

The next morning, I snuck out early.

I had to get out of there, and fast.

Oh boy."

I woke up with a start, feeling thoroughly flushed, and surprisingly, in good spirits. Eh, well, when have I ever reacted like any other mortal?

Did I mention I had managed to secure a carriage for myself at the last minute? I saw one just as I was on the brink of becoming hysterical for the third time that night, and actually HEAVED a sigh of relief. Let's not concern ourselves with my journey there, shall we, as what happened IN Lancaster turned out to be WAY more important than the 5th man I killed that night (the carriage-man, of course, but I doubt he matters in the big scheme of things, foxy as he was *wink*).

***

So, here I was, off to Lancaster, unaware of the history I apparently shared with the place.

The history of my birth.

The history of my birth mother.

The history of Rosita Gerald.

***

As you know, the rain was still not letting up, but I had important plans to carry out before I continued with the rest of my life, and Lancaster had seemed the right place to do so. Sure, hiding the body of the carriage-man had turned out to be criminally easy but that was not what I was complaining about.

Oh, how wrong I was! Lancaster turned out to be the last place I should've stepped my foot in, considering what happened as I reached there....

I had Hilda with me (stolen from that bitch, Zed), and she wasn't proving to be a very, how do i say this...EASY pet. She often peed and pooped at the wrong times, and actually WAILED and howled when she was hungry, or when I was suffocating her, ESPECIALLY when I was beating the crap out of her! But more on that later, this story has way more important things that need to be discussed.

So, Hilda was getting all wet and annoyed because of the rain, stopping every few minutes to pee or something, and that was starting to piss ME off a little bit. Of course, since she was a cat, my threshold of annoyance at her was way more than even my threshold of annoyance at Valerie, but then who's wouldn't, when you had SUCH a cute kitty-kat! Pity she had to die at my hands...

Basically, thanks to Hilda, we were progressing at a very slow pace, and we only reached Lancaster the next afternoon. Once there, I started moving quickly, securing a place for me to camp out so that those darned Londoners wouldn't be able to find me. As I was done with the carriage-man, I quickly disposed off with his remains, and went around town to look for someone to help me with the pain in the arse Dead Smith's cat had become.

As fate would have it, or as the calendar dictated, it was a Sunday afternoon, and it was turning out to be a terribly tedious job to look for some sort of a veterinarian.

So I decided to go where I had once vowed never to step foot.

I went to the house of God.

Now, sure, people revere him and all, but I really don't see what all the fuss is about. I mean, it's just God. I don't get what all the fuss is about that guy. He's okay.

God too didn't want me in his house, it seemed, as before i could step into the 'holy ground', I met the bishop out front.

He introduced himself. "Good Afternoon, young lady. You don't seem to be from around here. I'm the Bishop in charge of this church, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow, Abrams Poe. Can I assist you in any way?"

"Yes, Your Excellency. I'm Zxy Hemendip. My cat..."

The stunned look on Poe's face didn't let me continue with my problems with Hilda.

"Is something the matter, Your Excellency?"

"You're Zxy Hemendip?

"why? Is there some law in this area that suggests otherwise?"

Wise-cracking is OBVIOUSLY one of my best traits.

"No, no, of course not. I'm just surprised, is all. Are you in any way related to Lord Edward Hemendip? Perhaps a distant relative or something?"

I was getting a little fussed-up now.

"Distant-schmistant. I'm his daughter. Why do you ask?"

Then that silly man, His Excellency Bishop Abrams Poe gasped!

The gall of the man, gasping in front of Zxy Hemendip like he was some sort of commoner! Such men don't deserve to live, I tell you.

Wel, since we couldn't just keep standing there forever, I implored him to reply, and reply he did.

Quite colorfully, too.

"Holy Beelzebub! You're Edward's daughter? You're THE Zxy Hemendip? Dear lord of the flies, this means that...."

Then he huffed and puffed a little, and turned around and went away, muttering to himself.

I hate these kind of old silly men. Spooks, I tell you, one leg already dangling in the grave.

Since I didn't have anything else to do, I started looking around for other people. I didn't really find anyone besides this old Boho Beggar woman lying near the wall of the church. Desperate as I was now, about both, Hilda, and Abrams Poe, I decided to talk to her regarding the services of a veterinarian.

What she ended up telling me blew my mind.

And ended her life.

Oh, well, every war has casualties, and Alcoholic Anita, as she was called, was about to become one.

*****

'What do you want from me, eh? Stop poking me!'

Gawd, first in my dreams, and now in real life, why the hell did people talk to me like that? It's like they couldn't hear themselves.

Say, in this case, it would actually be true, considering that Anita was an alcoholic.

Who even drank that much in that day and age?

Didn't people realise what alcohol did to their innards?

Anyway.

"I'm looking for a veterinarian, you filthy old woman!"

"Vet-ry-naar?? Wot you talk about, eh? Had too much to drunk, eh?" And then that filthy old woman LAUGHED. That's right. She actually had the gall to be rude to me like that and then laugh. In my face.

And you ask why I killed the 'poor woman'.

I counted to ten, and asked in my most controlled voice,"I'm. Looking. For. Abrams. Poe. Where. Is. He?"

"Madowot?? First you asks fur my vet-ry-naar, and then for my Abra-poo."

And with that horrendous little outburst, she (thankfully) fainted.

Hoo, boy. Now I had two animals to take care of.

FML.

*********

Don't ask me how, but being the greatest being that ever walked this Earth that I was, I managed to get both Anita and Hilda to a hospital.

To THE hospital, I should say.

The Rosita Hemendip Memorial Hospital.

And that's when the mystery of my birth really started to unravel.

Huh, that just WASN'T my day!

********

"Welcome to the Rosita Hemendip Memorial Hospital, miss. How can I help you?"

Ignoring the fact that the Hospital and I shared a name, I proceeded to get Hilda and that ruddy, foul-smelling alcoholic woman admitted into the hospital to be treated immediately.

It turned out that the hobo's name was Anita.

In the vernacular, she was called Alcoholic Anita, but her official name was Anita Smith.

She was the one who told me two horrifying stories. One was the story of my birth. The other was the story of her death. Teeheehee. *evil grin*

********

Let's start with the more pleasant story, shall we (Just 'cause I'm feeling nice)?

This story was the story of my birth. The story that connected me to the Rosita Hemendip Memorial Hospital.

It all started when I went to visit Anita Smith.

For once, I found the woman sober and tolerable enough to talk to.

After exchanging pleasantries, and her apologising for her horrid behaviour, we got to talking about me (well, duh, why wouldn't we? ;) ).

When I told her that my full name was Zxy Hemendip, she gave a reaction similar to the old fogey Poe.

"What?? YOU are THE Edward Hemendip's daughter?? No, wait, you are THE Rosita Hemendip's daughter?"

I have to admit, for once in my life, i was SPEECHLESS.

But then again, I recover pretty fast from shocks of such kind, as you are about to find out.

"No. What are you, still DRUNK? My mother was Suzanne Thomas. And how the hell does everyone in this town know my father??"

"Huh. I think you need to sit down."

I obliged.

"Your father, Edward, was married to Rosita Hemendip nee Gerald, before he married that hag, Suzanne."

"Hey, watch your tongue, lady! Suzanne may have been many things, a whore and a liar, among others, but she was NOT a hag. YOU Are a hag!!"

"SIT. DOWN. Don't interrupt me again, or I shall never tell you the story of your mother."

Now, usually I wouldn't have backed down, but I could see her ears and nose going all red and fierce. So I thought, Just this once, I'll listen her out.

"Fine. Continue."

She raised an eyebrow.

Gawd, this woman was INCORRIGIBLE!! And SUCH a stickler for manners! I hated her already!! I promised myself that I'd kill her the first chance I'd get. But for right now, i had to listen to what she had to say.

"PLEASE."

"Sure. So, your father was married to Rosita Gerald, The Belle of London. And Lancaster, for that matter. Everyone loved her, apparently! Of course she died before I was born, so all I know about her is from the stories I've heard my mother tell me over the years. She and Rosita were very good friends, apparently, and even debuted together! Anyway, Rosita bagged the most eligible bachelor of the season, in the fourth week of the Debutante Balls itself. Your father. Now, HIM, I've even had the pleasure of meeting. A most agreeable man, I must say! You're a VERY lucky girl!"

Oh, she had no idea!

"Your father and Rosita spent around a year and a half in marital bliss, during which time my parents too got married. Soon, your mother was pregnant with you. Oh, what a joyous occasion it was for the family! My mother tells me it was one of the Golden Times of your family! There was laughter all around you house! Your father made several large donations in several hospitals, and got a special wing made in the then General Hospital,named after your mother, where YOU, apparently, were to be the first child to be born. The wing was almost complete by the time your mother's nine months were over, and indeed, you WERE the first baby to be born in that wing. But your mother was also the first person to die in that wing."

Inspite of myself, I gasped.

"She died during childbirth. My mother, around two months pregnant with me then, was one of the midwives for the birth. She witnessed the whole thing. Your mother was a very short, frail young woman. She had a rose in her hair, as usual, the day of you birth, and she was very excited about you, her 'child'. She loved little boys and was actually hoping for a boy, but God decided to give her YOU, a beautiful little girl, instead. Anyway, her birth was VERY painful. There was blood everywhere! A doctor suggesting aborting you at the last minute, but she wouldn't hear of it. She just wanted to hold her 'child' in her arms. So she persisted. But frail and of a little stature as she was, she couldn't handle the pain, and died. Not before hearing the sound of your crying, though. In her last breath, she asked to see her little boy, and no one could bear telling her that she had in fact, given birth to a girl. They all just looked away from her bloody, lifeless body, and when they looked at her again, the rose in her hair lay wilted. It died with her, it was said. It couldn't survive without her nurturing presence. Your father would have died too, had it not been for you. He took one look at you, said, "she takes my breath away, she looks just like Rosita", sold his house in Lancaster, gave all his money to the now Rosita Hemendip Memorial Hospital, packed his bags, moved to London and married Suzanne Thomas, so you'd never feel like you didn't have a mother. Great man, he was, really!"

Yeah, so great that he couldn't see his own wife having an affair with a young, though spritely, doctor, I wanted to comment, sarcastically, but held my tongue, since this woman so evidently had a crush on him...

"Oh. Okay. Good to know. Thanks. So tell me about you. I have some time to kill before I go pick up my cat and get the hell outta here."

"Me? I'm an alcoholic. You know that already."

"Yeah, but tell me about your past. You obviously weren't born an alcoholic, something made you this way."

"Oh, that. Two words. Broken Marriage."

Now, THIS sounded VERRRRY interesting.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Here, I inserted my concerned look.

"Sure. Everyone knows all about it anyway. My husband left me."

"For??" I prompted her.

"For another man. Yes, he seduced another man."

This sounded VERY familiar, and not in a good way.

"What did you say your full name was, again, Anita, darling?"

"Anita Smith."

My mouth ALMOST dropped open.

It was my own fault. I should have expected this. Two young men in their prime would OBVIOUSLY have been married, even if they were gay (and dead, no pun intended).

"Are you, perchance, Dead Smith's wife??"

The question escaped my lips before I could help myself.

"Not 'ded', ZED. Yes, I am Zed's wife. How the Beelzebub did you know?"

"Just a calculated guess, you could call it. So how did you...I mean, when did you...I mean...DIDN'T YOU KNOW HE WAS GAY??"

Another outburst, pardon me.

"Stop talking such slanderous things about him!"

"you STILL love him??"

"Obviously! Why else would I have married him in the first place?"

I ignored the fact that she fell in love with that disgusting, filthy, Grey-loving BEAST in the first place, and asked her about her marriage.

"Oh, it was LOVELY! At first. I'd known him forever. He used to hang around Grey George and some snouty bitch all the time when we were kids. I tried to talk to Grey once, since he was obviously the leader of the clique, but that brute (i sighed) never allowed me in that group."

And thank god for that, I thought to myself.

"It was just the three of them, that clingy bitch and Zed always running around Grey. They did all his bidding, like he was some sort of a God. Grey used to like the girl, used to flirt with her a lot, and I saw them kissing and holding hands discreetly on occasion too (I smirked), but what really got my goat was the fact that Zed used to worship him, and he always acted uncomfortable around him. I guess he wasn't ready to accept that he was in love with Zed then, and tried to prove his manhood by being all cozy with the snouty bitch."

At this point, my resolve to kill her had increased a million-fold.

"Anyway, the snouty bitch went away to London after her holiday-time. In fact, if I remember correctly, a whole group of Londoners, including your father used to come down to Lancaster every summer to spend it with his old friends. How come I never saw you with him??"

Because, I was never WITH him, you dumb little Zed-Lover. I was always with Grey. My father and I forgot that the other existed the moment we saw our old friends.

Ofcourse, I didn't voice this out loud, and said, instead, "Must be a coincidence, holidaying in the same place and never meeting."

She was too preoccupied with her precious Zed to realise I wasn't really answering her question. She continued,"Anyway, enough about her. Slowly, Zed started noticing me. He started spending time with me, and over time, we fell in love. He proposed marriage to me in the second week of the Debutante's Balls, and we got married soon after. Ah, those were the days. Zed and me, and Grey and Shontelle!"

"Excuse me. Shontelle?? Who the Beelzy is Shontelle??"

What she said next made my blood run cold.

"Why, Shontelle Jay. Grey's wife! Didn't you know??"

Before I recovered from this startling piece of news, she continued with her story.

"Shontelle and Grey were married soon after us. She had lived in India all her life, and when her parents died, and she came of age, she was sent back to Lancaster to make her debut. Boy, She was the most gorgeous debutante in our year! She debuted around three weeks after I did, so Zed couldn't get his hands on her, but Grey, being the most eligible bachelor in you year, did. He proposed to her the minute he saw her. It was love at first sight, for both of them! They made a BEAUTIFUL couple, him, so handsome and she, the quintessential English Rose, brought up in India, so she wasn't as devious." Here, that wretched woman gave me a conspiratorial WINK. Gawd, I hated her so much!!

"Those were some good days! The four of us had quite some good times! We travelled a lot, together, given how close Grey and Zed were, and Shontelle and I used to tag along, as she loved to travel, and would get bored with just Zed and Grey, for company."

"yeah, yeah, yeah. you had fun. where is this Shontelle now?"

"Now? Why, she's at her home, with Grey, obviously!"

"Oh, no, she's not. Grey's dead", I said, without thinking.

"WHAT? No! Grey's not dead! He can't be! I met him, what, a year back??"

Sick of pretending all was fine, I told her my side of the story. The barn and all.

Needless to say, she still had feeling for that scum of the earth Dead Zed, even after all this time, and she didn't take too lightly my killing of the two of them.

She swore on the holy grave of Beelzebub, and lunged at me.

Now, usually, I'm a good sport, and just move away when people lunge at me. No, really. I know it's hard, but seriously, I'm NICE.

Anyhoo, this time, I was really annoyed at her. And since I'd already decided to make a corpse out of her, I didn't stand aside. Instead, I tackled her, and then sitting atop her, asked her to meet me at a fixed time and challenged her to a fight.

We decided to meet the next day, at dawn, near the Church.

I collected Hilda, and left, searching for the ideal weapon to kill this smarmy Alcoholic Anita Smith with. I already had a slight idea, though, of what I might do....

******

The next morning, I met Anita at dawn behind the church.

Luckily for me, she was back to her usual self, drinking again. That made my job just SO much easier!

"Before we start, I wanted to say something."

"Says it, you husband-killer! SAYS!!"

Gawd, could this woman not speak properly when inebriated??

"I think we should have a little meal before we begin. I'm guessing you haven't eaten all night?"

"well, of course not! Fine. Let's do that. I AM hungry."

"Perfect, I've brought along a ham sandwich for each of us."

And then I handed her her sandwich.

********

A few minutes later, she lay on the ground, moaning.

"AAAAAH...some-ins hurtzing! wots didja puts in my san-wick, you bitc..."

Poor woman, never completed her sentence. The poison in the sandwich worked too quick.

oh, well, boo hoo.


I completed my sandwich, and walked towards the church. I found the confessional box and started speaking.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

"Say what you have to, my child, I'm listening."

Ah, the Disappearing Bishop, we meet again.

"Oh, it's YOU, your excellency!"

"Yes my dear. Get it all off your chest."

Of course, I thought, as I took out my knife and stabbed the man through the heart.

Pesky little old man, with his stupid bald head and white beard!
Such a hindrance.

*****

I got out of there (duh, staying in Lancaster now would be like walking towards the noose), collected Hilda from the motel room I'd rented for the night, and got out of there. Where I was going, only God Himself knew. London was out, and I'd just ruined my chances in Lancaster. FML.

Oh, but not before I "took care" of Shontelle Jay, the woman who dared marry MY Grey.

Oh, well, that's a story for another day, and as Suzanne had always taught me, "ALWAYS leave them hanging, baby. ALWAYS leave them wanting more...."

;)

My first reaction was: Oh, crap. You know, I may be all adventurous (God knows I am, Beelzebub!), but there is a limit to how much I can take of it! You may not see it now, because of the whole murdering-ANOTHER-man thing, but I am a nice person. True story. :P
So, I came out of the barn, and who should I see? The bitch of the man bitch. The stupid carriage guy who had the balls to yell his head off at me. ME. ZXY HEMENDIP. So, seeing him right after murdering his master wasn't the best thing that could have happened.
"Where is Gregory?" he said, his gruff accent so pronounced, I swear I may have flinched. Yeah, back then, us royals hated the idea of having anything like simple conversation with people of HIS class. Because, you know, they were like this guy. Frail, shrivelled up and somehow resembling a very old cat.
"Why do you ask?" I said, honestly having nothing else to say to that.
"'e is my master. I am supposed to drive 'im up to the towers. Lady Cumnor wanted to see 'im. Where is Gregory?"
"Well, if he really is your master, I don't think it's appropriate for you to refer to him as Gregory", I said, deviating from the topic. "You MUST address him as My Lord!"
He paused and shrugged. It was the same shrug that Grey had just given.
That man...
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a move", I said and started to walk away. "Look to your work, there!"
"Wait up, miss!" he said. "Where is My Lord?"
I sighed. It wasn't going to help but I had no other choice.
"Gay is dead", I said. "I mean, Grey", I corrected myself.
"Eh?" he said, looking uncomfortable and confused. Just then, I realised that this wasn't the first time I had heard an uncomfortable and confused person say "eh?" that way. Someone else had said this too....
I looked up at him, my eyes sparkling with something horrible. I couldn't see my own eyes, obviously, but something about the driver's expression made me realise that I probably did look like a she-devil.
That was hot. \m/
"He's dead", I said, not quivery and shaky anymore.
"Dead?" he said, now resuming my previous role of being quivery and shaky.
"Yes", I nodded. "And I suppose you are...Zed?"
He didn't do or say anything. Just stood there, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes wide.
"Gregory...dead?"
"I can show you the dead body if you can't believe me", I offered.
"But...how?" he said.
"I killed him", I said simply.
"Eh?" he said again in that annoying way.
"Yes", I said.
"You killed 'im?!"
"Yes!"
"Why would you do that??"
"Why? You want to know why????"
"Yes, I want to know why! Much as I despise you", he added.
I sulked. He never will change, I thought. Always the annoying old cat. Which reminded me, I needed to get a cat. I also knew for a fact that Zed was a cat person.
What was he, a girl?
Oh, wait; he was.
And he had probably turned Grey gay. Because I remember, when we were kids, Grey used to hit on me constantly. And he wasn't even the subtle kind. Sure, when we were thirteen, he used to hit on me privately. But by the time I was sixteen, he was doing it in front of everyone. So much so that people who had thought we were an unlikely combination started to believe we were already a couple.
That was a good time. :)
But now that I look back...Grey never used to be alone-alone. He'd always have Zed Smith by his side. Sure, he used to hit on me privately and there was that one time on my seventeenth birthday when we both lost control and snogged and almost made it to second base. Of course, back then, we used to refer to second base as "Jessie's mamma", mamma obviously meaning breasts.
Okay, so we weren't all that subtle!
"You really want to know why?" I said, fuming.
"Yes!"
"Okay...I'll tell you why, you freak! I'm Zxy Hemendip! All my life, I loved Grey. But his mum hated me. So, the bitch took him away and when he finally comes back and we're finally doing it, he shouts out "Zed!". Do you know how that feels? Do you have any idea how that feels, Zed?"
He shrugged again.
"I feel kind of nice", he said. "I mean I am sad that he is dead. And I am mad at you for killing him.But he loved me."
"Aw, is this a dear diary moment?" I said sarcastically.
"I don't have a diary", he said.
"You man bitch!" I yelled. I was so mad at him. I had never been that insulted.
Of course, I am talking about my first life.
"Look, I am going to have to hand you over to the police", he said, walking towards the carriage.
Like I was going to let him.
At that minute, I just wanted to pounce on him and rip his cat-loving heart out.
So, I did :D
I jumped on him.
And to say that he was shocked would be an understatement.
"What on earth are you doing?!"
"You won't call the police!" I said.
"I will! You murdered the man of my dreams!"
"You made the man of my dreams swing the other way!"
"He never really loved you!"
I gasped. That was the second time that a guy (to be precise, a guy like Zed) had insulted me.
"Zed Smith...you're going to be Dead Smith", I whispered.
And when I say these things, you just know I mean them.
And just like that, I dug my nails into his skin till he started to bleed and when he groaned with pain, I strangled him just like I had strangled his super hot and sexy, gay lover. He sounded like he was retching. Oh, yeah; that was the stuff. He tried to beg for mercy...one last cry..."Please...Hemendip..."
But I refused, obviously. I am a merciful woman. Oh, yes, I am. I grant the mercy of death. It may not be peaceful, but I do oblige with peace in the beyond.
He soon lost control and exhaled one last time before finally giving way.
He lingered for a while, but then it was too much. My job was done. Zed Smith had become Dead Smith \m/
I stood up and took a look at his dead body, sighing with the satisfaction that an artist gets on looking at his best piece of work.
Okay, Zed wasn't the best murder ever. But he was one of the really good ones.
However, when I realised that I had just murdered ANOTHER man (I should stop doing that, shouldn't I?), I sighed with distress.
Then, "Eh, well..." I said, sneaking into the carriage to find his Egyptian Mau cat staring at me with the lust that every cat beholds in its eyes.
My new companion would be my new cat, Hilda.

With my newly acquired possession and all my other things, I started out again. This time, I had a plan. I knew where I'd go and I knew who I'd meet.
Lancaster was just about to get lucky!

Turns out, running away wasn't the best choice I made.

Because the night i ran away, the night I killed Louis and Aneet, albeit "accidentally" was the night i fell in love, and out of it too.

Again.

And killed my love.

Again.

This really HAS started happening with alarming frequency in my life now, hasn't it?
Eh, well, a woman has needs, and men like Neil, James and Louis seem to have the capacity, and more importantly, the inclination to fulfill all my little heart's desires. Plus, old habits die hard.

Back to that fateful night, I ran away from my ungodly-big mansion, with just money to sustain me. I had no idea where I was going; all I knew was that I had to get away from London, it's judgemental people (people who thought that ME, Zxy, was THIS cruel and heartless!!), it's pathetic weather (which wasn;t helping right then...snotty rain EVERYWHERE!!), and most of all, it's VERY efficient police. Not only were the Runners VERY good looking and delectable, but they also took their job very seriously! Some should just chill once in a while, if you know what i mean! *wink*

Anyway, i started walking out of the city, hoping to see a late night stray carriage somewhere, or someone who could guide me to some town. Alas, my luck was playing "snakes and ladders" with me that night, what with the "murders", the stupid rain, and the sexy man i was about to run into.

Now, it so happened that the rain wasn't letting up, and I had taken shelter inside an abandoned, though thankfully clean and dry barn on the roadside. Don't ask me why there was a barn in the middle of the road, just know that it was there, and that I was grateful it was. I dumped my bags of money inside and came out again to look for any passers-by.

That was when I saw what was to be my fourth tryst with destiny.

Love, actually, but then isn't that what life is all about?

The carriage was normal enough. Not too fancy, but then not too plain as well. Just the way I liked them, infact. :)

I went and stood in the middle of the road, making the driver stop and come out to shout at me for standing in the way. I started pleading with him, asking him to please help me, and let me go, when he started muttering something about them Runners.

Then I heard this uber-sexy, dripping with testosterone, completely enchanting voice asking the driver what the trouble seemed to be. The driver, uneducated, ill-mannered git that he was, answered in his gruff drawl, explaing my "predicament", sarcasm dripping in his tone.

I half expected the man to get out and call the Runners himself and make sure I was hauled in(that's what Neil, James or Louis would have done if they were in his place), but what he did next made me sure that he was different from the rest.

He did come out of the carriage, but not to get me caught. Instead, he behaved like a perfect gentleman. He was kind, sincere, polite and not to mention, HOT.

Like really, really, really hot.

Like George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Neil Patrick Harris rolled in one hot.

Or maybe even hotter than that concoction.

He was the perfect male specimen, if I've ever seen one, and BOY, I've seen a LOT of male specimens in my time (and after my time too, but we'll talk about that later, shall we? ). Not ONE of them held a candle to this guy. Okay, maybe Neil did, but the man who stood in front of me had a beauty surpassed by none wh live in this time.

He was clean shaven, with a chiselled jaw, as finely cut as a sculptor's masterpiece. His hair was blonde (that was the ONLY thing I would've changed about the man, sandy hair makes me weak in the knees at first glance. Blonde takes a few minutes to digest, but the final result is still the same, if you know what I mean.), dirty blonde, to be specific, slick and put back in a suave hairdo. Though his eyes were his (and mine, as it turns out) undoing. Those blue-green pools of pure lusty colour! I swear I could've drowned in them! I'd heard his voice, before, obviously, but apparently, I'd falied to recognise it. Only when I'd stared into those eyes for a few seconds that the recognition hit me like a bolt of lightening from nowhere, plunging right into my stomach like one of those daggers I'd used to kill people.

This man was Gregory George.

Also known as Grey George.

Also known as Grey.

Also known as My.First.Love.

All at once, I had a vision of the past blurring by. Like little video clips floating around my head...The George family and ours holdaying together in France, The George boys (Grey and Paul), and Grey's hero-worshipping, snivelly little best friend Zed Smith (he worshipped Grey, of course!), luncheon with the boys, Amanda and me, little TEA-PARTIES that I used to organise for all of us, playing house with me and Grey as Mommy and Daddy, and everyone else as our kids, the tirade was ENDLESS! We had spent so much time together as children that it actually surprised me that I'd completely forgotten the man so quickly! Eh, well, I guess sex (and sometimes the lack of it, as well) does that to people. Then I remembered why I hadn't spoken to him for so long, apart from the fact that he had been away all this while, to Spain, I think.

The George family and ours had had a litte tiff before my birthday (the one on which I killed that bitch, Samantha, and of course, Amanda), and so I hadn't seen them in a long time. Suddenly seeing Grey brought back a LOT of those memories! Sigh, life does take unusual turns, doesn't it?

Grey looked at me weirdly, as if trying to recognise me from somewhere, but failing badly. I quietly whispered, "Grey", hoping that would bring back the memories of the first time I had called him that.

Right after we kissed for the first time.

Right after my first kiss. Ever.

Yes, Grey was my first kiss, let's move past it shall we?

Anyway, turns out that it did.

Because the next two second saw him turn red.

Like a frikking tomato.

Or maybe frikking tomato KETCHUP would be a better comparison. :P

"Zxy?"

"Yes, Grey. It's me."

"I almost didn't recognise you. You look dishevelled. Is something the matter?"

"YES!", I wanted to shout, and run right into his arms, but I controlled myself and instead, said, actully WHIMPERED, a "yes."

"I'm fine though. Sorry for hogging the road, I didn't know you were going to pass this way."

"Are you crazy? how could you know I'd pass this way? An more importantly, what are you doing here in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night? I thought you were married?!"

At this point, I really DID run right into his arms. I was just completely washed out from the whole murder thing, and completely turned on from seeing Grey after such a long time! I hoped Grey stilled liked being the saviour, as he did when we were kids, always trying to save little damsels in distress. Of course, then it meant little girls in pigtils, but I guess tonight, me was all he was going to save.

"I am! I mean, I was, but my husband is dead! My children are at home and there is absolutely no one I can turn to right now!"

Patting my back, he said "oh, now, now, Zxy, I'm really sorry for you. Don't worry, everything will be alright. Shit happens. We just have to move past these things, make a new start, maybe even revisit the past and meet with friends from the past, you never really know what God plans for us....."

While feeding me all this bullsyte, he probably saw the barn, and started leading me up to it, probably to get me out of the cold and wet weather outside. The perplexed driver had long gone to the carriage, probably realising that his casanova master wouldn't be returning anytime soon, especially of a promiscuous-looking woman like me had anything to do with it, if you know what I mean.

So, we entered the barn, him leading me into it, acting all brave and gallant, talking about love and life and ife-lessons all the while.

Now while I LOVE listening to hot men talk about life lessons, church and God (who wouldn't? :p ), there's just so much of it I can take without completely wanting to bach the guy's head into a million tiny pieces (and I think Louis would tell you the exact same thing. If he were alive. Which he isn't. Because I drowned him. In cold water, nonetheless. One word. BUAHAHAHA), so I did the second most effective thing I could.

I seduced him.

And BOY, was it good!

I stood up on my toes, leaning as if wanting to say something, and when he leaned in toward me, I took his face in my hands and planted a smackery right on his beautiful pink lips.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

To say he was totally into it too, after the initial shock, would also be an understatement.

So would saying that he reciprocated by grabbing by butt(aaahh).

But to say that he STILL managed to die at my hands would do too.

This was how it happened.

Here we were, completely making out, like not a minute had passed since I'd turned 16, every part of my body wanting him, competely, unconditionally.

He was totally groping my butt, and trying to reach my breats at the same time, so I made things easier for him. I opened up my blouse, and let him continue with the foreplay while I worked on his zipper.

Needless to say, a few minutes of moaning and groaning later, we were buck naked, going at it, RIGHT ON THAT BARN FLOOR! I was having the best sex of my life!

God bless God for doing that to me, Beelzy, though I would'nt EVER forgive you for what happened next.

Here he was, Grey, moaning in pleasure, hell, even making ME moan, when suddenly he called out "Zed!".

Seven times.

In succession.

While he was still inside me.

While we were doing it.

I stopped. Immediately. Which girl wouldn't, if she heard the name of the ugliest kid she'd ever seen come out of the mouth of the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, while she was riding him (or he was riding her, but that's hardly the point, now, is is? ), finally, like she'd wanted to, since she was a teenager?

Seriously, THIS was how my teenage dream was supposed to end?

I had one word, and one word only for what had just happened. FAIL.

Two actaully, if you think about it. EPIC FAIL.

That man was the biggest Man-Bitch I'd seen (or had sex with) in my life!!

First of all, he was GAY (or swinging the OTHER WAY, as they used to call it then), then he was having sex with me (and the best sex ever, too!), not caring AT ALL how I felt!! I'd never been this insulted in my entire life. Even Samantha seemed like a puppy in front of this man-bitch.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

"Huh? Nothing!"

"Don't you 'nothing' me, you little freak! I heard you! You called out 'Zed'. And not even once, not even twice but SEVEN times. SEVEN."

"oh, right. I'm sorry, I guess."

And then he shrugged.

It was at that moment that I decided that I was going to kill him.

Right there.

I dind't care if his driver was waiting in the carriage, this man had to die NOW.

So I killed him.

Easy-peasy, Simple-pimple.

I strangled him to death.

Sex always makes me feel giddy, but it also always makes me feel powerful. And I used that power right then to squeeze the air out of that super-hot man's lungs. He went from pink to purple to blue and then to white in a span of a few minutes.

It was the most beautiful sight ever. It almost compared to the vision of AP and ST's dead bodies, but then that was a classic. This was almost there, but not quite.

I guess that was probably because I actually loved this man. Cared for him, even.

But he obviously didn't mind playing with my feelings! Well, then, tit for tat, I didn't mind playing with his LIFE. Beat that, the hottest guy I've seen, dead-or-alive.

But then of course, after the rush wore off, my senses returned.

Oh, damn. I'd just killed another human.

So, (ad don't judge me for doing this because I know you want to), I did the only thing I could do.

I wore my clothes.

Took the money.

And fled.

Oh, damn, I was on the run again.

Ah...when I look back at my time with Louise, I realise how crazy and great my first life was. I had Louise, I had my baby girl Valerie, my ungodly mother, Susanne Thomas was dead (as was her monstrous boyfriend, Alexander Pinto)...what more could I ask for? The only thing I needed was an addition made to my staff. So, before we delve into this story, I take this moment to tell you about how two innocent lives could have been spared...had they really been innocent.
So, anyway...the story goes back to around the time when Valerie was two months old and I was beginning to get bored of her. She was a baby, so she couldn't really do a lot so she was hardly the source of entertainment I was looking for. I know you're judging me, but please take a moment before you do that, to look at how awesomely awesome I am. You can't judge awesomely awesome people.

Anyway...so, Valerie was getting boring and Consuela wasn't that interesting either. So, I decided to employ someone who would take care of them while I could delve into my interests of erotica. Again, don't judge me. I am a woman, I have my own needs.

I got a lot-a lot of applications. People from India, China, Persia, France, and even Germany, somehow wanted to be employed in the royal household of Zxy Hemendip. I decided to go for the weird looking Indian who didn't speak a lot. He was weird looking in that his ears reminded me of pixies and his voice, though not part of his looks, reminded me of a squeaking woman. His name was Aneet Batel.
Weird name, weird looks, weird voice...now, we're talking!
I can still remember the day we first met. He was the strangest bloke I had ever met. The first thing he said to me was, "Mm?"
In my own head, I went "eh?"; to him, I just gave a weird expression.
"Where is your baby, child?"
Why, in the name of beelzebub, would he call me a child??
I put that aside and handed over Valerie to him, still amused that I had hired a male nanny. A manny.


So, with the responsibility of Valerie given away, I headed to my room where Louise was waiting with a navy suit on. (I know, right! Best thing ever!)

"Hello, sailor", I said as I entered, only disappointed when I saw that he wasn't wearing it. He was in his regular clothes, getting ready to leave.
"Sweetheart, I'm afraid I have to leave. One of your neighbouring dukes seems to be in urgent need of me."
As far as I could remember, I had no neighbouring dukes.
"Neighbouring dukes, darling?"
"Yes. Do you remember the George family?"
"Do you mean the family of the Duke of Lancashire?"
"Yes, them. The George family is back in the public eye and this time, Sir Grey George is with them."
As he said that, a sea of memories washed my mind and I was taken back to the time when I was seventeen....Grey....the first boy I had ever kissed....the boy who had had to leave town because his mother didn't wish him to be around me. That bitch...
But I outgrew my one-day long love for Grey. It wasn't the most difficult thing I had done, see.

"Will you be gone long?" I asked him.
"I hope not. They say that the father needs me. I should be back for dinner, I suppose", he said and kissed me goodbye.
I watched his carriage move away and realised that I needed a hot bath more than anything else. Not because I was tired or something but because...you know...I was bored.
"Aneet!" I called out.
The male nanny came running out with Valerie is his hands.
"Give me the baby...you can go and heat up some water for me...I simply must have a hot bath..."
"Yes", Aneet said, looking majorly confused. But I thought it was his usual look so I didn't give it much thought.
I played with Valerie for a while and called out to Aneet again.
"Aneet, is the water coming along?"
"Mm?" his squeaky voice croaked. "Yes, child...the water is ready."
"Excellent" I murmured and set Valerie in her cot. I walked out of the nursery and found Aneet waiting for me with the water.
"Yes, thank you, Batel", I said as he poured it out into the tub and left.
Not every hot bath goes the way this one went. Every hot bath involved a maid or an attendant setting out the hot water for me. Then I would get them out and undress, thinking about whoever the lover was at that time. This time, it all went the same way...I was just starting to think about Louise...when all of a sudden...out of nowehere...I put my foot into the water...and realise...that the water...is....wait for it...keep waiting...and I hope you're not from Canada, because the next part of the sentence is...COLD!
The water was so frikking cold! I said, "hot bath!" and THIS is what he makes out of it??
"Aneeeeet???" I called out, wrapping myself in a warm towel.
"Mm?" he said, stepping into the bath chamber/
"Do you remember exactly what I asked you to do?"
"Yes, child...you wanted me to get you water...so I did."
"No...what I wanted you to do was to get me water for a hot bath."
"It's the same thing, child", he mumbled.
"Is it? IS IT? Why don't you get into the tub and test it for yourself?"
And I did just that. I pushed him into the tub and didn't let him resurface for like a whole minute. He struggled to come up and I was sure he was panting in the inside and praying for dear life. But I couldn't help it. It was the one thing I had wanted. Hot water. Even that he couldn't get straight. How dumb was he? His pain gave me such joy...his cry gave me every reason to smile...
Soon, however, I realised that it was time to let him resurface. How much should I punish a bloke who can't get the water right?
So, I decided to relinquish control and let him breathe.
But he never did.
It was the worst thing ever!
Who the frikking Beelzebub would take care of my baby?
The man wouldn't breathe. He actually wouldn't breathe. The wuss couldn't survive breathlessness for a minute! Biggest douche ever!

I decided not to panic. The guy was dead. So, what could I do?
The first thing I did was to conclude that I was not to blame. Sure, I was the one who was holding him back. But this was an unintentional murder. I wasn't even that mad at him. I was angry, of course I was. But all my previous murders had had a reason. Like when I killed Samantha, she had insulted me. I killed Amanda because she was a born bitch. I killed my mum and Alexander Pinto because they were privately setting up their own private world of joy when they didn't deserve it at all. I killed James (sniff, sniff* because he suspected me. I killed Sam Viktor because he caught me and his brother going at it. It was pretty embarrassing. The seventh murder...that of Aneet Batel...it had no motive. He just got my water wrong. I would never kill him for that!
Eh...maybe he did deserve it. Because if you really think about it...you'd know that he was dull, boring, encouraged reading Chemistry, discouraged having fun and effectively brought life to a standstill. All these thoughts brought me to the conclusion that Aneet Batel probably did deserve death.
So, with the guilt factor gone, I sat down to think. Where would I keep the dead body? With the others, I had no problem. Samantha had drowned. Amanda...well, I had buried her because that was how mad I was at her. With my mum and AP, the hospital had taken full charge. Then James...ah, the poor thing...he had fallen off a cliff. "Accidentally". Sam Viktor was buried properly because people thought he had killed himself and Louise really helped me convince them that he was capable of doing that.
So, how should I have disposed of his body?
But would you look at my luck?
Just as I dat thinking about a way to get his body out, I heard the main door creaking open, Louise's voice penetrating the walls of my royal Edwardian style home. Edwardian, as in, it resembled the Edwardian style of the future. We are still in a time prior to the Edwardian era :)
I panicked. Louise was home. Aneet Batel was dead. I was in a towel.
It was the wildest moment of thought of my first life. For a minute, I swear I considered jumping out of the window. I did. I really did. But then Louise stepped into the bathroom.
"Hello, my lady", he said.
Oh, well...who knew? Had I just thrown my towel aside, he probably wouldn't have noticed that there was a dead man sitting next to me. But I suppose I was too late. He did notice Aneet Batel and was so shocked, I swear I haven't seen a funnier expression in my entire life.
"Zxy?!"
"Yes?"
He looked up from Aneet to me and I knew he knew that I had killed him. Accidentally, sure. But even so.
"Another murder? Do you never learn?"
"It was an accident!"
"Do you not care about your own children? For a minute, spare them a thought! Spare them your love and care and think about how dangerous it is to be with you! Think about the poor Aneet Batel's family."
"I do think about everything, Louise! Please don't think of me as a heartless package!"
"But, it's true! You are a heartless package!"
"A heartless package? If you call me that again, I swear on Beelzebub, they would be the last words you utter", I said, giving the exact same look I give to people when I am really mad at them. I guess that's what got Louise all terrified and he stopped talking.
"How did it happen?"
I narrated the entire incident of the water and everything and when satisfied that the story was over, he stood up and called out to Consuela.
"Where is Valerie?"
"I have no idea", I answered, looking up to look for her.
"Alright, that's it", Louise put his foot down. In his head *sniggers*
"You are a senseless woman, Zxy", he said. "And I don't think it should go on. You just don't seem to care about your children!"
"I do care about my children, Louise!"
"No, you don't!" he said and went on to point out the things that could classify me as an irresponsible mother. Gosh...he just wouldn't stop talking. On and on and on he went...at one point, I tried to squint my eyes and look at him. I realised that he resembled Lord Byron a little bit.
But goodness me and my arse, he wouldn't stop! So, I did what any sensible and freakish woman would do.
I put his head into the water and didn't let him resurface so that he can't talk.
And he didn't come up either.
Oops!

I could not believe it. The one man I had cared for after James...was gone,too. Dead. Like killed dead.
I killed him :O
The attendants would be suspicious, I knew. So, I did the best thing a sensible woman would do.
I fled. I decided to escape the town and start over with my father's money. This city was far too judgemental and if they ever came to know about the murder of Louise...boy, would I be the queen of controversy for the seven millionth time!

I could hardly believe it when it happened. I had never expected myself to be the one doing it, the worst crime against makind, taking away someone's life. And not just someone's life...my husband's life. Like I had mentioned it before, I owed it to him to be a good wife and not kill him. But he didn't give himself any other option. I knew then that I would move on with his memories in my heart and his child, first in my belly and then in the world. I just didn't know how I would manage having the baby without James by my side. With Consuela, it had been different. I had not known in the initial months what assistance was like. But James had to step into the scene and burst my bubble. God, I loved him! Of course, I loved Neil more...but yes, for having been there for me, I did love him so! With so much passion, devotion and such lust...

He was a lucky man.

Now, because that was, like, the fifth murder I had committed, people started worrying about me. Sigh...people, people, people. Why can't people just bugger off and mind their own businesses? I could not believe that my own father thought I needed some sort of medical assistance. "Medical" doesn't sound as harsh as I make it out to be, I know. But that was exactly what he had said to me right after the death of my mum, Suzanne. Of course, I had killed his wife so he'd be mad at me. But that didn't explain why his friends from Pakistan would want me to get myself checked. So, after countless talks with my dad as he tried to convince me of the merits of getting myself checked, I relented. I would go to the psychiatrist. So, he got me an appointment and I waited unwillingly for the seventh day of the week to arrive. The appointment was for seven in the evening and that was strange given how that was pretty late, considering the fact that it was in the 1800s. I got ready that day, dressed in the most inappropriate way so that the doctor would be freaked out and would leave me alone. From what I had heard, the doctor who was going to report was this man...a certain Dr. Clement Lagrange from Marseilles. I hated that guy. He was willing to come to England from France to check me but to do the same to my mum had been tiresome when I had suggested it.

So, anyway, I knew that I could freak him out by using the inappropriate clothes and everything. Plus, I was at another advantage, given how I was pregnant and hence, could talk to him about morning sickness and stuff and make him feel sick, too. When the bell rang, I was prepared. When the attendants opened the door and another came to announce his arrival, I wasn't.

"Dr. Sam Viktor", bowed Maria.

I was shocked, of course. Who wouldn't be if you expect an ageing doctor but a young and rather annoying one shows up instead?

I looked at her for a second with wide eyes and then said, slowly, "Let him in, Maria."

She bowed again and sent him in.

"Miss Hememndip", he took off his hat and bowed. Yes, bowing was rather important back then. When I do it, now, people laugh at me.

"Dr. Viktor", I did the same.

"You may address me as Sam, Ms. Hemendip", he smiled. "You may wonder what I am doing here, Ms. Hemendip. I am here on behalf of Dr. Lagrange. He was detained in Dashton Street for some other important business. His brother, Mr. Alain Lagrange II, has taken ill and may not be able to attend to you."

"That is quite alright, Mr. Viktor. I am sure you will take up his job and do it with utmost delicacy and perfection", I smiled, however furious I may be in the inside. See, we used to show manners to perfectly hateful people, too.

"Ms. Hemendip, you forget; you may address me as Sam."

"Well, then, you may call me Zxy, Sam."

"Zxy? What is your name, Zxy?"

I looked up at him, my eyebrows forming a deep frown. How could anyone say anything like that even in jest?

Given the fact that he was my "doctor" and that I still had to get him to not check me, I resolved not to let my sharp tongue get him. Instead, I just gave him a goofy giggle. He thought he was being funny.

God, how blonde was he?

"So, Zxy...how do you feel right now?"

"I am quite alright, Sam."

"Do you miss your husband?"

I looked up at him.

What was he, stupid?

James had been the best thing that could ever have happened to me. After Neil, of course, but how could anyone doubt the fact that a widow would miss her dead husband? It was only then that I realised that I was, in effect, a widow. That somehow didn't suit my image.

I immediately realised my need for either sex or murder but shoved it away when I realised why that douche of a man, Sam Viktor was in my room. But I did have to admit that he was the handsomest doctor I had seen in a while. After Dr. Mike, obviously. But Sam did have that German feel to him and had he not been this blonde, I probably would have used him for the fulfilment of my formerly described needs.

"Zxy, I hope you know that you are not alone in this dire task of getting over the painful memories of the death of your husband. But, it is something you have to go through and I assure you that I will be with you. Whenever you need me, I will be there."

So, maybe I could use him...

"Thank you, Sam. That is very generous and sweet of you, I dare say."

He smiled. "God Bless you, Ms. Hemendip. Zxy, I mean. Or is it Zemendip?"

So, maybe I wouldn't.

"It's Zxy Hemendip", I corrected him in spite of his unruly behaviour. I know that it isn't that sensitive a thing but I am rather proud of my name. To me, "Zxy" sounds sexy!

"Yes, that is correct", he bowed as I think he realised there was nothing else he could do.

"Zxy, I regret to inform you that tomorrow, I will be unable to attend to you as Mr. Alain Lagrange needs my assistance as well."

"Oh, dear; I hope everything will be well with him. I hardly know him, of course; but one does feel distressed upon hearing news of illnesses."

"Yes, I'm sure you perfectly understand how significant this is for me. But on account of its significance for me, I do not wish to deprive my patients of suitable aid. My brother, Louise Viktor VII will attend to you tomorrow morning. I shall see to it that nothing brings any sort of displeasure to you. I shall return after a while to make sure things are well."

With that, he bowed again and left. I was left baffled. How on earth did all the doctors have enough time to visit the poor soul of Zxy Hemendip? Could they not let her live her life (well, "lives" in my case) the way she wanted to? I know it's pretty self centred, but I really did start worrying about my own health in case my regular supply of blood didn't reach me.

The next day, I decided not to bother too much but dress appropriately. After all, the big guy upstairs had decided long, long ago that I would not have happiness as part of my life's tales. So, why bother? It's just too much work and by now, I think you may have gathered that I am a very lazy countess.

So, anyway; after breakfast, as Marci, my attendant, rubbed my feet and I sat with my eyes closed, the door opened and revealed Maria.

"Dr. Louis Viktor."

"Send him in, Maria", I said, straightening myself up.

And so, Louis Viktor stepped in and changed my life forever.

Maybe not forever, but, yes; he most certainly did change my life for a little more than three weeks.

"Ms. Hemendip", he said, taking his hat off and bowing with a different sort of charm.

"Dr. Viktor", I bowed. I tried not to gape at what I found the best face I had ever looked at or the best physique I had ever set my eyes upon or the best eyes I had ever seen.

"Please...call me Louise", he smiled.

Though he was Sam Viktor's brother, he held no resemblance of any sort with him. He was tall and well built, his suit clinging to what perfection I could make out of his body as seen from the outside. His eyes were a hazy shade of brown and his hair a matching colour. He seemed ahead of his time, for he had already learned a new way of styling his hair. He had cut it off in such a way that only a layer of hair was formed on his head. When he took off his coat, as did most doctors while treating their patients, I could see his arms through the transparency of his shirt and I was pretty certain that they were strong muscles. Now, back in those days, having muscles was not very common. Finding an exceptionally good body was like finding gold. Well, that is in my world. Most other women were painfully content with their men, so long as they could continue their gossips with their girlfriends.

"I feel obliged to assure you that I will try my best to be of utmost support to you in times of dire stress for you, Zxy. May I call you Zxy?"

"Yes; I wish you would", I said and then shuddered when he looked at me with those painfully gorgeous eyes. Fortunately, he just smiled a genuine smile and didn't say something like, "You're strange."

"I am here to listen, Zxy. Talk to me. Talk to me about anything you like. You don't have to talk about the death of James or Mrs. Hemendip or Mr. Pinto. I know that Mr. Pinto was a respectable, albeit monstrous man, and all the events against him were justified and quite intense. But you don't have to think about them. Talk to me about anything under the sun and I will listen to you. Loosen yourself a little, Zxy."

And just then, I did the worst imaginable thing.

I cried. In front of a smoking hot guy.

"There, there..." he put his arm around my shoulders. "All will be well."

"James was...the most wonderful thing that happened to me", I sniffed. "And I...killed him...oh, God; why did AP have to do ST in the first place? None of this would have happened!"

"Hush..." he slowly rocked me back and forth as if I were a little child. Under the influence of his powerful arms, I really did feel like one. "Hush, Zxy...we are all with you."

"Are you?" I looked up at him. Now, it seemed sort of awkward when I did that because I was in his arms and his eyes were just so deep that I could feel myself drowning in them. So much so that I suddenly felt blind and deaf to everything except for Louise and his essence. I continued to look into his deep eyes and so did he. Then he initiated the first step by moving slowly forward. He kept coming closer till all I could feel was his breath. He came closer still and then breathed down my neck, "Yes."

He resurfaced and I knew that it was more than I could bear. When he kissed me, I responded violently. Withing minutes, our clothes were nothing more than a pile, set aside as if unnecessary. By the end of all the action, because of his perfect moves, I was compelled to say, "Oh, dear...bless us and save us...Louise...you were the best I ever had!"

"I shouldn't have done this, Zxy. It is immoral to have physical intimacy with my patients."

"Oh, Louise...don't be this hard and fast upon yourself. Try to make mistakes. Mistakes make your life seem so wrong and enjoyable!"

"I don't know what to say!" he said with a small smile.

"Don't say anything, then", I said, placing my index finger over his lips.

He grinned. "I don't know what to do!"

I smiled and then whispered, "Do me."

He looked at me once more and we embarked upon that journey again. Only this time, we had to cut it short. Because guess who enters!

"Sam!" said Louise huffishly.

"Oh, no..." I sighed.

"Lousie!" Sam shouted.

"Relax, Mr. Viktor. Please do not shout in my home."

"I am shouting at Louise, Zxy. He has done something immoral and it is utterly despicable in the world of doctors."

"I didn't want to be a doctor in the first place!" Louise said, suddenly. "I wanted to be a musician."

"Well, I don't give a tiny rat's arse about that!"

"Sam!" I dramatically and hysterically said.

"I am going to have to do what is right, Lousie. I will have to kill you", he said.

I couldn't take it, obviously. I mean, the guy had just given me the best of my life.

"Alright, then", Louise stood up. "You can kill me. I have done wrong and I shall be punished for it."

Meanwhile, however, I was doing something else.

Sam walked over to him. I carefully wanlked towards Sam, too.

"I have no other choice, Louise, you understand, don't you?"

Louise nodded. Oh, what a brave man.

He took out a dagger, rather frail looking. On examining it, I suppose he realised it, too.

"Zxy", he looked at me. "You don't happen to have your old dagger, do you?"

"Oh, I do have it", I said, and on retrieving it, had the best shot of my life. "Take that, you blondie!" I said as I pierced it neatly into his body. As the beautiful blood came oozing out, I had no words for the joy that it brought to me. I turned to look at a shocked Louise.

"I love you, Zxy!" he said.

Aah, 16 July, 1809.

What a night it was!

One of the most splendid, ever!

I woke up to find myself lying on a hospital bed not unlike the one on which i had killed Suzanne and Alexander. Except, in this case, i wasn't being stabbed. Instead, two nurses were caressing my forehead, James by my side, calling out to me, shouting for Sam Viktor when he saw me stir. A few minutes later, when everyone calmed down, Sam Viktor came up to me and told me......that i was pregnant!

I was shocked out of my wits? Me, pregnant? Again? Oh, no!

No, no, no, no! This was not supposed to happen right now! I was in the prime of my life! Another child right now would mean disaster for me! I couldn't do this to anyone, least of all, myself!

In a fit, I told Sam that he was wrong. There was no way in hell that I could be pregnant!

Sam looked at me quizically, as did James. Only then did it occur to me that the expected me to be HAPPY! Of course, I should've known.

So, i gave them a huge grin and pretended to be surprised instead of shocked. I hugged James, congratulated him on becoming a father, and then came to askthe inevitable question expected of me..."Where is Mother? Why don't I see her with you, James? Is she all right?"

Tears came to his eyes. How would he tell his dear pregnant wife that her mother was just brutally killed? But full marks to him, he didn't try to hide anything. He came straight to the point and told me everything. Of course, he didn't know who was responsible, but he did imply that he would definitely find out who did this.

I have a confession to make. I got scared.

I thought James actually would get to the bottom of the murders and being the righteous man he was, get me adequately punished. So I did what any sane person would do. I killed him.

*******

killing James was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and that includes the ordeal i went through while nursing his son.

I had decided that I would kill James only after the birth of his child, so as to secure his fortune.

So almost a year to the date I killed my mother, i murdered James.

It was pretty simple. I didn't want blood, but poison would mean immediate suspicion on me. So, I did the most logical thing I could. I threw him off a cliff. Plain and simple. Organise a picnic, schedule it for a rainy day, go to another place to escape the weather, land up on a cliff, push the husband off! What could possibly go wrong?

My luck held, and nothing did. Everything went according to the plan. The murder was clean, marked accidental.

It was beautiful!!

Now, some people may find blood gory and disgusting, but that is SO not the case with me. I love blood. It's the essence of a person. Whenever I killed (apart from that bitch Samantha), I always made sure I spilled some of their blood (or in Suzanne's case, a LOT). Letting the blood flow brings a kind of finality to the whole life-death situation. it also makes ME let go of the person I'm usually killing.

Needless to say, Suzanne's and Alexander's death was a party for me. Smelling that rich, thick, intoxicating smell of blood made me high, making stabbing them SO much more fun!!

I can feel you judging me, but before you do, just DON'T. Those two deserved it!

I can forgive a fling. God knows I've had more than my share. But I really can't stand a life-long affair! That's just unpardonable!

So I took that knife (scalpel, now I know it's called) and plunged it hard into the naked flesh of twisted bodies I saw. As it turned out, I had stabbed my mother. Her cries of "Alllllllllllliii.....OHHH" became "AAAAAHHH..that really hurt!!". But that was the only sound I heard. After that, I became blind and deaf to everything else but the blood and the sounds of the stabbing. I knew that someone would enter the room soon, hearing my obscenely loud mother and her lover, but I guess people at the hospital knew about my mother and Alexander, so no-one came in for quite some time, giving me lot's of time to escape!

But i took my time. I wanted the job to be done well, no matter how much time it took. Turns out, not much. It was actually all over in a few minutes. Their bodies stopped writhing after a few minutes, gone from white to red in the space of a few minutes. there were so many stab wounds that it was almost impossible to count them (though later I came to know that there were 37 stab wounds in all...oh how I congratulated myself!)!

My hands were covered in their blood, my gown almost soaked through, but I kept going. Every stab for me was a way to come to terms with what I had seen happen on that sterilized bed and let me tell you, it wasn't easy at all.

Soon, I started regaining my senses. I realized the enormity or what I had just done and stopped to look at my handiwork. Despite myself a smile crept onto my face. They looked like carved animals, every bit of them covered on blood. Their faces were frozen in pain, an expression I'm not going to forget for the rest of my life! It was the sweetest thing in the world. One of Alexander's eyes were halfway open, as if in the middle of a wink, though his bloody lips told an entirely different story. They were rounded in an "Oh" as if surprised by what was happening. Like I said before, it was beautiful!

My mother's face was different. Her hair, shaken loose out of her prim and proper chignon was strewn across her face like two horns sticking out from her head. Blood was trickling out from her mouth, snapped shut by the impact of one of the blows that landed in her cheek. Her eyes were open, terrified, a thing of beauty, I must say!

I started retreating, knowing that I probably didn't have a lot of time left before someone came a-knocking. I slipped quietly out through the door, into the deserted passageway which had led me to Dr.Alexander's "treatment" room. It was conveniently devoid of anybody who might accidentally discover them, which in turn was lucky for me!

I went out into a WC, splashed my face with lots of cold water to clean it and remove the blood from it, so I looked ashen. Then I thought of Neil, my first love and made tears fall down my face. I screamed my voice hoarse, crying all the while. When I looked at my reflection again, my face had changed from being red, puffy, angry and menacing, to white, sunken, tear-streaked, tired and most of all sad, in just a matter of a few minutes.

Then I ran out to where I knew I'd find someone, still crying, my voice reduced to almost a whisper, breathing shakily, heart beating madly with the euphoria of the murder and the running around.

Eventually, I found James, talking to Dr, Scott Valenzio, looking extremely worried. As I came near, I heard him say my name along with "they're really close...if anything happens to Suzanne, God knows how Zxy will react...she needs her right now, what with Consuela and me..her new life...I hope she's okay.."

Oh, James, little did you know!

I ran straight into his arms, seeking "comfort" in his big arms, still crying uncontrollably, unable to form words. He hugged me for a few minutes, then pushed me away to look at the wreck I had become, soothing me with that seductive voice. But then he saw my bloody gown and stopped.

And gasped.

And then shouted.

"Oh my Dear God, Zxy! what happened? are you all right? Is that blood? Is that your blood? Who did this to you?"

I shouted for joy inside, and still crying, said to him,"...Mother...Dr. Alexander...room..naked...blood...dead...tell me...not true...how could she...now she's gone...dead..get to them...please...Consuela...take care..."

I guess I didn't know it then, but I was pretty tired after all I had done, for the next moment, I fainted into oblivion.

Wow...labour was really hard...and especially when I saw the size of the thing that came out of me...Dear God, I wish that on no one!!

Needless to say, Consuela became the heart of my family. Everything revolved around her. My parents, James' parents, Maria, and even Dr.Michael (with whom I had a little old fling...but more on that later...) agreed that though overweight, she was the most beautiful, cherubic baby they had ever seen!! I was, of course, DELIGHTED!! I knew Neil's (and mine) child could never be ugly...but such perfection!!...she really was blessed, Consuela!! Pity she died so young!!

But I don't think I can talk about her death right now....I have to unload the smaller things first... like James' and my mother, Suzanne's death. Should I start with James or Suzanne?

Oh well, let's start with my mother first...she WAS the one who died first!!

My life was bliss with James before she had to come and screw it all up!!

James...AH...James...he was a prince!!...He was the most perfect man I had formed an alliance with (excluding Neil Patrick, of course!!). He was my best friend, lover, confidante and the step-father of my child....He had given me everything when I had nothing and I owed it to him to be a good wife and not kill him..but like I've said so many times before, life isn't always fair...

It was the night of 16 July 1809. I remember the date distinctly because the next day I found out that I was pregnant with James' son...but let's get to that later.

So, 16 July...it was evening time and the three of us were just about to retire to bed. Little Consuela was already asleep in James' arms, and he was about to tuck her in bed, when there was a loud "RAP RAP RAP" outside. Both of us were startled...here it was, 8 in the night, and someone had come knocking at out doorstep (of course these days if someone comes to meet someone, it's rude to go BEFORE 8, but those were those days...I mean, when did you think that "night" *wink* chocolate "After Eight" was invented??

Anyway, it was after eight and there was a knock on the door...of course, we weren't expecting anyone so it was kind of startling. I told James to go and check who was at the door at this hour, when we should've been ...ahem...canoodling...

So, James went to check out who cam calling at this hour. Turns out, it was Micheal.

Yes the same Micheal who gave birth to Consuela. He came in and sat down, shivering from the rain and cold outside.

"I regret to inform you but your mother , the delightful Mrs. Suzanne Thomas has taken ill.

"What? what happened to Mother? She was completely fine when I paid her a visit with Consuela the other day!", I said.

"Well, she was fine until about 6 this evening. Then, suddenly she started having stomach pains and spasms. Your father rushed her to the Rosita Gerald Hospital, where she was immediately attended to by our two specialists, Dr. Alexander Pinto and Dr. Scott Valenzio. They were able to stabilise her condition for a little while, but then then she went from bad to worse not half an hour ago. They haven't been able to find out what was wrong with her but she is continuously getting worse. Your father has sent for you to be with him and the rest of the family in this troubled time just in case something happens. It would bode well if we hurried right away!!"

James immediately shot up with,"what are we waiting for? Let's go!!"

So we went. I wish now that we hadn't.

For if we hadn't, Suzanne and Alexander wouldn't have died at my hands.

Ah...those two died happily...in each others arms....

To know why, I'll have to take you back to 1777, the year I was born. It was July, just before I had been born. My mother, that bitch, Suzanne, was in the hospital, waiting for my awesome arrival. She was well..."bored" and really wanted something to..."do"...

She looked around for my father but he had gone out on an urgent errand. She tried to wait until he came back to inform him of her little "problem" but by then she was getting too restless.

Who else would walk into her room then, but our young, dashing physician Alexander Pinto, coming to check on her? Needless to say, one thing led to another and well..events transpired...

Apparently, since then he and my mother would meet up and "do" things...

Now, I didn't know about their little affair till the day I killed them, so you can imagine my surprise when I ran to my mother's room and found the now elderly Dr. Alexander with her, her almost screaming out "Alllliiiiiiiiiiii" due to his expert treatment....

To say I went into a rage would be an understatement. I took the nearest, sharpest thing I could find, which sadly, turned out to be a stray knife left by one of those stupid, muddle-headed nurses. I took the knife and plunged it as hard as i could into the twisted mass of bodies that made up my mother and the doctor.

The next thing I remember, is BLOOD.

So, I was twenty seven, single and pregnant.

My God, pregnant.

Completely pregnant.

Hurrah!

I knew that society would not accept a bastard...but, oh, what the hell! I knew that my child would turn out to be really cute...you kow, because he was Neil's child...so, I didn't really mind adding on to the population of the world . My parents were so freaked out! I may not have mentioned it but I think it's pretty obvious that I have an obsession with freaking people out. I don't know what it is...I suppose it's just the way people look at me, like, "Okayyyy......she is weird."

I liked freaking those people out especially because they were so clever...realising the fact that I am weird only after I freaked them out...

So, those nine months were...awes-ful...those mornings of projectile vomiting...those evenings of thinking about the child's father, hoping for that sinful feeling of lust at his mere thought to move away from me as it dragged fire through my body...those nights of waiting....and those moments of bliss when I would realise that I had, in effect, a human baby inside me, as I nourished it with the little love I could. That's right; I have feelings, too!

So, I lived my life as best I could, what with all the society drama I had to go through. I couldn't attend Lord James' Annual Ball and I hated that. You know how people have favourite outings, concerts and stuff like that, my favourite night of the year used to be Lord James' ball. He was this thirty year old, really cute Lord of Montfort and he would have this string quartet organised for any couple engaged to be married. That year, Neil and I had decided that we would announce our engagement, freak our respective parents out and then dance to the music of the string quartet and win at the couple game. The couple game was this thing...it was not official but we knew that all the couples had it going. You know, the which-couple-is-hotter thing. We all go through it. Of course, I went through it for more than my share and needless to say, I absolutely loved it! So, anyway, Lord James would have this string quartet organised and Neil and I would day dream about being part of the dancing team. This year, of course, he chose to die. So, we couldn't dance. And because of the whole being-pregnant thing, I couldn't go to the ball either because of the whole bastard thing I mentioned before. Because they didn't want to face the people and tell them that I was pregnant, what with my suddenly, slightly jutting out belly and unnatural glow, my parents decided not to take me. They left me alone and all I got to do was pregnant stuff while they went and danced all night. It was elegant dancing, too! I was so sad, I resolved not to write to Lord James about how sorry I was for not being able to attend his ball. Then they would have to answer him and they wouldn't be able to lie because...well, why would they? They are horrible at it.

So, I did just that. I didn't write to him.

Little did I know that the opposite would happen.

He didn't ask them why I couldn't come. He came home directly to ask me why I didn't.

'Miss Hemendip', he bowed. 'How do you do?''
How do you do, Lord James? Why, I had hardly expected you at this hour. The ball-
'The ball is incomplete without you, Ms. Hemendip.
''I beg your pardon?''
I do not see why you would choose not to grace our humble abode with your presence.
''Lord James...I cannot explain why. It is beyond my reach...I am under great stress, Lord James.
''What could possibly bother you, Zxy?'

At first, I was shocked to hear him call me "Zxy". Then the reason of my shock changed when he took me by my hand instead. Now, even as a Lord, you are not authorised to take the daughter of a Count by the hand. You would freak the daughter out even if she was aroused in a bitterly sweet way.

'I...cannot lie to you, Lord James.'
'Then, don't.'
'It's difficult.'
'I will make it all easy for you', he brushed my lower lip and before I knew it, he pressed his lips against mine.
'You seem so taken aback, Zxy', he whispered huskily. 'You cannot tell me that you hadn't expected this from me. I am sure you recollect how I would wait for just a glimpse of you back in our childhood days. That never stopped.'

Now, I was taken aback. He was strange. I had no clue about the one-glimpse thing.

'I don't know what to say, James. You...you leave me speechless.'
'Don't say anything. And I am aware of the situation you are in.'
'Are you, now?'
He nodded and carressed my belly lightly, fidgeting with the knot that held my dress in place.

What followed is...rated R. If I write about it, I am sure to make eyebrows raise even higher. Just remember that by the end of his meeting, I was scared that I may get pregnant again.

So, that was what happened that night. But we soon developed really strong feelings for each other and he looked really hot; so, marriage was inevitable. My child was no longer a bastard and it was on 17 July, 1805, that my beautiful little baby girl, Consuela was born. Yes, but it wasn't as easy as writing about it. No man can go through it and still survive. They could die. And they would die.

It was at seven in the night, right after dinner, that I had this really weird feeling. A weird sound followed and a weird pool of water was formed on the floor. I was freaked out. What would you do if you get up from the table and this pool just flows out of nowhere?

So, I looked up at James and he went in his sing song voice-'Are you quite alright, Zxy?'

'I don't know, James-ugh!' It was the weirdest sound I had ever made.

'Maria!' he called out to the attendant. 'Summon Dr. Michael, quick!'I was taken to our bedroom and we waited for that flimsy doctor to come. Within five hours of constant screaming, contractions and annoying pushing, my beautiful little baby girl, Consuela Wilkinson was . She was heavy, though; 7 pounds. Over time, she lost weight. But that was far ahead in the future.

In the second half of the first quarter of my life.

After that fateful day, I kind of broke down when I realised that Neil would not be around me anymore. I had loved him with so much passion, so much devotion and such lust! If only he could have seen it...he was just so gentle and soft...and not in a sissy way! No, not at all...he was like a warrior coming home after months of war, finally finding his lover, sweeping her off her feet..ah, those times were great!

Ugh, stupid Amanda!

I tried to make my peace with the fact that Neil's essence would not make my day anymore, that his sound would not bring me to the world where only Neil and I resided. I didn't fret, I didn't cry. Well, except for that one day of howling I did when he died but that's a different story....it was kind of dampened by my annoyance at his killing himself.

I thought that I was doing well on the whole getting-over-Neil-Patrick thing till a week after his funeral. I was asleep when I had this really weird feeling, one that I only had on long journeys that made me nauseous. I woke up and as a reflex, ran to the bathroom...only to throw up. I paid no attention to it since just the previous day, my father had invited his friend from Pakistan and the cooks had been instructed to prepare traditional Pakistani food. That had been unsuitable for my digestion and hence, the throwing up was justified. But that didnt explain the four subsequent throwing up sessions I had. So, I finally gave in and called a physician home, swearing him to secrecy about whatever happened between us.

It was true. I was, in fact, pregnant with Neil's child.And I didn't know what to do about it.

I know that now it's not a big deal. US and UK have the largest number of teenage and single woman pregnancies. But back then, it was pretty grave, having your own child without a father. Neil and I had been secretive because my mum and dad would have freaked out had they known that I was in love with one of the men of the rival counties. Neil was the Count of Kent and York hated Kent. So, my parents hated Kent, too. The only person who knew about us was Amanda (May she never rest in peace).

So, I was blank.

I was twenty seven, single and pregnant.

I think hearing that dull "thud, thud" of the axe was the defining moment of my life.



I guess that was when my destiny as a aging cold-blooded murderer was written.




It was the happiest day of my life, for that bitch, Amanda, was dead, but it was also the saddest, because I understood that night, that Neil would never again be mine. Far from it. As i'd said before, he had become mentally deranged after seeing Amanda's death (I won't say murder, for only INNOCENT people are murdered, not bitches like her).




At first I tried to sort it out myself. Only later would i know that that was my ONE (and only, because , let's face it, I'm awesome!!) mistake. I tried to shower him with so much love that he would forget all about what happened that fateful night. But even though I gave it all I had, I couldn't erase the mark that that night had left on him. He was broken...forever!!



Our courtship sustained for a few months, a few, unsatisfied, unsatisfying months. We tried to pretend that everything was fine, nothing had changed, but it all came to a standstill on the second fateful night of my life.



7th July 1804.



The night of my 27th birthday.



The night I was supposed to wed the love of my life, Neil Patrick.



The night that was supposed to be the best night of my life.



The night that became one of the worst nights ever.



The night Neil killed himself.



Everything was going on as per the schedule I had drawn up for my special day. The Chapel looked pretty, decorated with hundreds of thousands of orchids and lilies, a gigantic chandelier swaying above the altar, bringing a sweet, yet somehow seductive glow to the entire room. Candles, everywhere I looked, making me look even prettier than I was in the hundreds of mirrors that adorned the walls of the great hall. I had requested my father for French cuisine to be served in the reception hall a few yards away from the Chapel, and at that time I could smell the baguettes and buttery, sugary, succulent pastries wafting their mouth-watering aroma everywhere. It took all of my will-power to not go and stuff myself with that food.

A good thing, actually, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to fit into my first (of many to come) wedding dress!

Oh my God, that gown was the most beautiful and exqusite thing I've ever seen!!

It was white, obviously, with every SINGLE inch of it covered in glitter and diamonds. It had a plunging neckline, off-shoulder, fitted sleeves, a corset and then a flowy mass (yes, I was ahead of fashion at that time too), a LONG trail, a matching pair of dainty sandals and the most BEAUTIFUL veil. The veil framed my face like a princess's, softening my features so I looked like I was an angel in heaven, floating around Earth in my awesome gown.

Ah! I completely forgot to mention the chocolate fountain in the middle of the reception hall! Chocolate was still a new concept then and my wedding was one the first ones to have a chocolate FOUNTAIN. Now that I think about it, that really was a fairy-tale wedding!



If only Neil hadn't decided to kill himself that particular day....



You want to know what happened? What went wrong?



Fine, I'll tell you.



Amanda was what went wrong. She had to get herself killed in such a violent manner didn't she? If only she had left Neil alone.....



He wouldn't have had to witness her death, he wouldn't have gone senile and he wouldn't have killed himself.



People blamed me for his death. They said that if I hadn't said what I did, he might probably be alive today (okay, so not TODAY, but you know what I mean!!).



I didn't agree with these people. All I had said was, "Now nothing can separate us. We'll be together forever!! You'll be mine forever. No can take you away from me. You'll only belong to me, me, ME!!"

I don't think what I said should've sent him over the edge, but that's what the people at the mental health facility who examined me said. My therapist bluntly told me that I was solely responsible for his death. Personally, I felt it was just....umm...."cold feet", nothing more, nothing less. I don't think that was enough to warrant him slitting his own neck!

I felt really sad that he was gone (more on that later) but I DEFINITELY didn't feel responsible for his death. In fact, it gave me a chance to try out other young bachelors in town. I mean, I was, of course the Princess of York now that my father was a Duke!!

Though I'm sure you'll all agree that it really was stupid of Neil to kill himself (like I said, the sadness came only later).

Anyway, to each his own. While he was off killing himself, I was revelling in the glory of my wedding day.

Ofcourse, I didn't get married that day, but whoever said life was perfect?

Alas, my bloodlust wasn't over.

Samantha wasn't my only victim on that fateful day, though she was the one who died peacefully.... the dark, murky waters of the sea left her breathless in less than a minute...I know because she told me that in the afterlife(remember how I mentioned that I died twice??). She didn't want her Earthly body anyway, and told me so when I met her...she mentioned that she was thinking about ending her life anyway. That was the reason for her joining us on my birthday. She was a bitch, sure, but inside, she was just a sad little girl.

In fact,I feel bad for her sometimes, even though she ruined my birthday.

Anyway, no time to spare...I have 200 years' worth of stories to tell you and it ain't gonna finish at this speed.

So, onto Amanda, my next victim.

Sweet, bubbly, cheerful Amanda.

Always caring, confident, sunny Amanda.

My SISTER, Amanda.

What did she do to me, you ask?

Well, she didn't do anything to me...she actually did something to my lover, Nathaniel Patrick. To be more precise, she did HIM. She was a TRUE bitch, and she deserved to die with every bit of pain that i projected to her body, while Neil watched from afar, scared.

Scared, so scared, of me that he eventually killed himself. In his suicide letter, he wrote that he was scared that I was "coming for him" and that I was "metally deranged" (whatever that meant). But you don't believe that do you? I may be evil, but that doesn't mean you think such nasty things about me.

Back to Amanda.

We had been very close when we were little. We would share everything, from dolls to clothes, to books to friends. I guess, somewhere along the line, she figured (VERY wrongly, as it turns out...unlucky for you, BITCH!!) that she could share my lover too.

Yeah well, turns out, I wasn't that generous.

So when I found out (through Samantha, of all people!!) that she was making love to my darling Neil Patrick, I got angry, so very, very angry!!

I got a pick-axe from the captain's quarters and made my way to the corner of the deck where Samantha had seen them "canoodling".

When i saw them, I slapped both of them across the face, realising only later that Neil ( <3 ) wasn't there of his own accord. He had been tricked into going along with her to the deck.

I wasn't done with Amanda, though.

When Samantha had first told me about Amanda taking Neil to the deck, I had brushed it off. Then, when we had our fight, and she fell in to the water, her last words to me had been, "I wasn't lying!". At that time, I had hated to think that she knew and believed such a horrid thing about my sister, but then i decided to check it out for myself. With a pick-axe.