“You’re so beautiful!”
I know, she replied in her mind, putting on her false lashes and checking every angle in the mirror to make sure every bit of actual skin was covered. She didn’t look to the sagging bag of flesh called her mother to acknowledge her comment, but instead touched up her lips. Today’s shade of red was pink- her favorite color.
The old rag kept talking, “I remember my younger days!” She put her hand to her forehead over-dramatically- making sure to keep her manicured ruby nails displayed. “I could charm any man-oh, touch up that eye-shadow a little more, I can hardly see it!” The beauty had to keep from whipping around and smacking the wrinkly hag with her gem adorned hands. She could do this on her own! She didn't need some chatty bitch to give her directions. Instead, the beauty nodded and opened her mascara. After a quick pat of her mascara brush on each lid of her eye, she loosened her blonde curls and adjusted the way it fell very methodically and carefully. The woman’s crackling, weak voice broke through the beauty’s concentration:
“Darling, what kind of hair adjustment is that!? You look more like a-” she shuddered a little while trying to find a good definition. “Like a roughly, desperate, prostitute!”
The beauty turned and faced the old woman with a look in her eyes as feral as a rabid hyena. The woman huffs in retaliation. “What!? You know I’m right! You look like your sister- like Cassandra! Fix that mess now! Especially in the back! Hurry up, before you start saying you want to do something asinine like becoming a veterinarian just like her! You have a shoot in less than thirty minutes!!”
The beauty felt her patience couldn't be tried further. Being careful not to snarl at the worrisome bitch, she took the second hand mirror and held its face behind her head as she looked to the worshiping vanity mirror as reference. It was hard for anyone other than her and her mother to see, but there was- in fact- an extremely thin lock that was bulging out of place. As she took her perfectly pink, manicured nails and begin smoothing the lock to fix the problem, another hand rapidly smacked hers out of the way and began to briskly ravage the beauty’s locks.
“You’re too slow!!” the woman spits, snatching the comb from the vanity and accessing the bump. “God! Didn't you hear me!? You have a shoot in five minutes! How do you expect to beat that perky little amateur with sloppy behavior like this!? Next thing you know you’ll be thrown out like trash because of your sloppy behavior! Then you’ll be this washed up little has been who nobody want’s anything to do with!!”
The old bag finished and strutted out, reminding the beauty of the shoot. After the door to her room shut, and the rapid steps of the old bitch became silent and distant, she released a loud, wild, heated shriek. She seized the hand mirror, smashed it repeatedly into the vanity mirror. The once clear disciple of the seemingly flawless beauty cried sharply and harshly as it was clubbed with its brethren over and over until its face was no longer reflective of the life it once held within. The beauty cried out again and flung the young survivor ruthlessly against the wall with such force that the remnants flew across the room. The beauty now stood huffing and growling- her perfect white teeth and perfect body coiled tightly into an animistic posture. She was very dissatisfied with the kill.
She looked to her expensive brand name purse and dug for her cellphone- violently flinging out any unlucky victim that stood in her path between her and her primary target. As soon as she retrieved it, she heatedly woke it from its slumber and almost literally punched in the digits into its hard yet fragile body. It yielded with the sound of a tone at the other end of its earpiece and, eventually, the sound of the low voice speaking expressionlessly on the other line:
“The preparations are set. I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” ---
“I can’t believe you! Not only were you late, but you messed up your hair after I put in all that work in making it look decent!” the bag shrieked in the limousine on the way to the fancy restaurant. “Furthermore, your pictures were so lackluster and boring that I almost fell asleep in the studio! If this wasn't a dual shoot and that perky little yapping bitch wasn't taking pictures with you, I would beg the photographer to burn your photos to save face!”
The beauty looked straight ahead, her eyes burning the dividing window between her and the driver. The sounds of the old bag’s voice reverberating in her ear were making her go over the edge. She eyed the tall glass of sparkling water that rested in the bucket of ice. She imagined the scenarios of beating the ugly, annoying, saggy old dog until her brain matter painted the seat and windows. She saw herself pulling out the old bitch’s teeth piece by agonizing peace, and hearing her voice wale and shriek. The beauty smirked on the side of her face that the old bitch couldn't see. It was the only thing keeping her from ripping out the dog’s jugular.
“Oh! You’re going to ignore me now too!? Like your whore sister!?!? Like Cassandra!?!? Don’t forget who taught you everything, you ungrateful little hussy!! Don’t forget what I had to do to feed both of you while that sad excuse you still call ‘father’ left us!! I bought you here! I can take you out!!”
The beauty twitched again. Patience… ---
“Jacqueline LeBeaux, a debuting model who took the modeling world by storm only several months ago, is still missing after three weeks. LeBeaux was last seen exiting a highly exclusive restaurant at about 11:30 at night. Police have questioned witnesses…”
Her lamb shut the radio off as she grabbed the wrench from off the rusty workbench and walked back to the operating table. The beauty tapped the young woman on her arm. The woman whose head was trapped inside of a burlap sack flinched and began to breathe rapidly and scurried- in vain- to escape the seat in which she was strapped in. The beauty gave an audible chuckle at her newest victim’s lively attempts to escape. Using the cold tool in her hand, the beauty traced the victim’s arm down to her… well, what used to be her fingertips.
The victim’s hand looked like a broken, emancipated stumps protruding from a rounded, scarred, bloody stump to which there was connected four, tiny and shortened fingers. She was missing her index finger from making the mistake of jabbing the beauty in the shoulder with it. The only intact and non-manipulated finger was her pinky- which once sported a square, manicured nail. The nail was now horribly broken from digging in the dirt to escape the clutches of the lamb. It’s holding onto her finer tightly- never wanting to be separated.
The beauty tapped on the broken, dirty nail with the tool she held teasingly and the victim responded by balling up her remaining digits into a tight fist. The victim shook violently and began to cry silently from the tool tapping her knuckles playfully- as if to say don’t hide, let me in so I can play with you again. The longer the beauty tapped the louder and harder the victim sobbed. It got to the point to where the cries became hysterical and… almost ridiculous sounding. The beauty chuckled again at the reactions of her prey.
She, however, tired of the cries quickly and- putting all the power into her arm- slammed the heavy wrench down on the knuckles of the crybaby. The shrieks turned into proclamations of immense pain, as this was done over and over again until her hand was completely bloody and unworkable. The beauty called for her lamb to open the whiney bitch’s hand. The victim cried loudly in protest, struggling once again in vain. The lamb did as commanded by his master and opened the victim's hand- holding the nailed pinky especially poised toward his beautiful ruler.
She put the tips of the victim’s finger in the mouth of the wrench and began to tighten its jaw onto the poor little victim’s surviving digit. The beauty was just as careful with the tightening of the jaw as she was with anything else. As soon as the jaw was locked tight and inescapable, she pulled at the limb slowly. She tuned out the victim’s now annoying bellows of pain and, instead, tuned in on the sound of bone separating from the sockets and flesh coming apart. Her mouth curled into a gleeful grin as she licked her lips at the sight of separating tendons and veins. She could feel her mouth water with greed and hunger.
The beauty pulled away quickly from the victim and pulled off the sack adorning her still crying head. The beauty laughed again as she barked at her lamb to get her phone. When the rectangular body was in her hands, she opened up the camera and began to take picture after picture of the young, shrieking victim. The beauty barked another command, and the lamb is quickly at the victim’s side- wielding a long, rusty, bloody hacksaw. Another bark and the lamb placed the teeth of the saw over the victim’s thighs and began to slowly saw away. The victim’s shrieks were no longer audible- just continuous squeaking breaths escaping a closing windpipe. The more the lamb sawed, the faster the beauty captured the images. Eventually, the beauty threw back her head in wicked, satisfied laughter. ---
“Last night, at 1:00 A.M. Thursday morning, the offices of the Daily as well as investigators received numerous images of a woman in her early 20’s being tortured by an assailant in a mask. The woman was identified as Jacqueline LeBeaux, who went missing over a month ago. The pictures were traced back to a computer in the downtown library. The manager who was on shift at the time stated that he saw no one suspicious enter the library at the time. Investigators…”
The hag sighed and turned off the radio. “That’s terrible. The world we live in now a days. You know, if I was younger, this would have never happened! People are going mad these days, just… just mad! Those sick bastards just crawling about, their ugly faces and souls hunting down innocent victims…”
The beauty smirked as the hag rambled on. She was so proud of herself that she didn't even mind having to cover up the splotchy, bubbling skin, sickly looking skin under several pounds of makeup today. She didn't mind the hag being in her space. She polishes her face to perfection and nods, once again, to her hag mother’s constant waterfall of complaints. Another craving sated.
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--BluChe 001 (talk) 14:08, June 20, 2014 (UTC)http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/User:BluChe_001