eighteen

                                    

                                          
🔪 CW: animal mutilation🔪
                          
for days he stood watching, waiting. for weeks, she did the same. either one expecting the other to break, to approach with lust and hunger and finish up the facade of normality once and for all. 
                          
after their last interaction, patrick had taken it upon himself to let her make the next move. sure, his pants tightened at the mere thought of that fateful september afternoon, if he tried he'd at least get a lay out of the situation, he reasoned. but he knew that there was far more to it than that, far more than he was willing to risk. his defences were still up, hesitance and caution like soldiers guarding their post. she posed a threat to his existence as god. his existence in his world. it was supposed to be his world. the notion of having to share his world nauseated the boy. so instead, he waited. 
                          
after their last interaction, evangeline was sure he would come crawling, drooling and foaming at the mouth, palms open for a morsel of the drivel of his goddess. she saw the fear and the confusion and the desire in his eyes as her blood-soaked palm met the flesh of his cheek. evangeline was not the one to crumble first. it was her world, everybody else just her little pawns. patrick was by far the most stubborn she had come across so far, but her heart was set on this new challenge; to break him and take him until she had him at a checkmate. 
                          
at first, with the wound still fresh, she swore she would see him contemplate his approach. a sudden twinge in his eyebrow as he leered over henry's shoulder at her, walking the halls. a slow, deliberate lick of the lips as she took her homeroom seat in front of him. and she waited, enjoying the calm before the storm, she could taste it.
                          
day by day, these subtle twangs dwindled. a nostril flare as she lined her notebox with her green ruler on monday and a clenching of the jaw during study hall on friday. two weeks from their last confrontation was when evangeline finally broke. god, not enough to talk to him, but her mind had finally admitted the fact that he too would not crumble under the pressure, instead he was somehow able to push it to the deepest crevice of his mind until the blood rushed back to his dick. and this infuriated her. the self-confession entered her mind impulsively, not asking for permission, or slowly whittling its way in - just throwing itself in the middle of the floor leaving nothing to the imagination. it hit her so hard and so abruptly, her thumb struck up and snapped her clean, yellow pencil in half. thank god she sat in the back of the room for history, she thought. as the realisation sunk in, she swore she felt bubbles in her veins and steam excreting from her ears, her jaw clenched so tight in rage she felt her back molars grind together like sandpaper. thankfully, she wasn't a complete stranger to sudden bouts of rage. 
                          
evangeline held it together through history, geography and science, keeping her head above water by mentally planning her next great hare dissection. usually, her saturdays were reserved for the activity, but with the amount of wrath that was slowly working it's way up her oesophagus, she was sure she could push her schedule forward, just this once. finally, at 3pm sharp, the bell sung out for the end of the day. she was never one to hurry, but the homicidal rage building up gave her an extra measure of haste. she hurried through the halls, wanting to quickly grab her bag and leave without incident, headed straight for the depths of the forest. as her eyes caught up with her feet around the corner, she felt her entire body freeze, like her once scathing hot blood had been replaced with the ice water of the kenduskeag stream in december. 
                          
here was this motherfucker, in his 5 feet 9 inches of glory and his mousey, mulleted gangmate hovering over a girl. a boring, bland, tasteless rat of a girl, evangeline thought. the exchange was far from flirting, the girl evangeline recognised from science class was cowering behind her book bag as henry leered over her, a devilish grin sliming it's way across his features as patrick stood closely behind with a smirk of mild amusement. 
                          
spare me the details, she thought, that should be me. rousing their attention, drinking in their predatory lust and leading the lambs to slaughter. 
jenny, she recalled. jenny holland, was the girl, the bitch, the tart in question. stealing their attention. his attention. 
                          
evangeline stormed straight past her locker and out the front doors, a spry walk taking her all the way to the deepest branch of derry's forest. without slowing a second, her science books found their new home at the bottom of a muddy puddle with a grunt, and her hand met the hilt of her prized switchblade. for the first time in what felt like forever, evangeline halted, shallowing her breaths as her back met the body of a large red spruce tree. her instincts kicked in, once again following the sounds of the forest, quickly sifting through the creaks and cracks of the foliage around her. and thats when she heard it. just like she had done with the rock, her knife expeditiously left her hand, airborne until it struck an opossum in it's rear. not enough to kill it immediately thank god, but rendering it maimed enough for evangeline to take it's life herself. she fleetingly ran to meet it at it's grave and without hesitation, drew the knife from it's abdomen, only to plunge it straight back through it's thick, matted fur. she may have felt her brain briefly surge against her skull, but not nearly enough to let off the amount of steam rapidly thumping within the confines of her body. 
                          
again, and again, and again she stabbed, careful enough to avoid any blood splatter staining her person further than her hands, but with as much reckless abandon as she could muster. she continued to cleave at the animal until it was indistinguishable from a slaughterhouse floor. eventually, evangeline let the knife slip from her hands as she reached into the small cavity of it's body, feeling around until she felt a small, round organ fit neatly into her palm. she yanked at it, her nails severing the attaching arteries. she swiftly bit into it, seconds after it's last heartbeat, only to spit out the sizeable chunk and throw the rest in the same direction with an almighty agonising scream.
                          
nothing. not a hint, not an inkling, not a fucking god-damn whisper of relief, she sighed. evangeline rolled her eyes as she turned from the gruesome murder scene to her bag behind her. to avoid bloodstains, she held the bag between her forearms to stabilise and unzipped it's main pocket with her teeth. she retrieved a pink water bottle and the packet of wet wipes her mother had packed for her. if sonia had seen how her daughter made use of these wet wipes, her head would have hit the linoleum kitchen flooring as fast as gravity itself would allow her portly body to so. hastily, she made clean of her mouth and hands and rose from her spot, knees red and indented where she had knelt in the dirt before the bloodbath. it wasn't enough and she knew it, not nearly enough to rid herself of the rage and the fury and the jealousy she had a nauseating time coming to terms with. 
                          
first, she planned, i deal with this. then i deal with him.
                          
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a/n: i'm alive! aha, fuck. you guys - i am so sorry for going missing, a lot has happened but ive since realised how much i love writing and how much i fucking love seeing everyone enjoying this story. 
i'm halfway through reading the IT novel, i also watch natural born killer and i just couldn't help but drum up some deliciously devious ideas within my dreams for you lovelies. 😈 thanks for sticking around!