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Primrose

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It all started when I moved to Two Egg, Florida. I was twenty-five, and about ready to have a real accompiniance (No replacements found) in my life. I was never really a man with good looks, a cool car, or any athleticism; but I loved art. I went to take a free class on artistic history, I needed to get out and find my bearings. I told myself I'd put my work ahead of myself for once, focus on myself and not others around me. But then I met her. I was so awestruck by her beauty and talent, I hadn't even noticed the class was over until almost everyone had left. I cautiously walked over to her, mustering up whatever courage I had.

"Hey.. My name's Xavier."

"Primrose," she replied hurriedly, reaching for her notebook and stuffing it into an already overflowing pack. She turned, pulling the pack over her shoulder. The bottom was worn and tearing at the seams, and I was barely able to catch it as a tsunami of loose-leaf papers came flooding out. There were a couple of black books with the titles gouged out, the leather pealing off the cover.

"Sorry about that," she laughed nervously.

I smiled at her and handed her the rest of her papers, "Not a problem. Need help carrying anything?" She looked at the mess around us and nodded sadly. "I don't think I can carry all this mess back on my own.."

It was a short but blissful walk back to her house, despite my arms aching from those heavy fucking books.. I don't understand how such a petite thing could carry around what felt like bricks. Or why, for that matter, she was carrying them around. Climbing the steps to her house, I felt pretty ballsy and asked her for coffee. She agreed and we set the date. After she went through the door I jumped in a victory down the steps, things were finally starting to look up for me. I laid down in my bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

As I was dreamed I was sitting with Primrose in the coffee shop, watching her as she rambled on about whatever the hell it was. I had seen a figure in black in the corner of my eye whilst, and looked over. A man had been staring at us. He had a ghostly face, as if he had been drained of blood. He stood up and creeped over to our table, his face only inches from mine.

"Penta.." I shivered, my gaze fixated on him as he turned, a knife stuck securely in his back. By now I was freaking the fuck out. I looked over for Primrose but she was gone. I woke up in a cold sweat, gasp for air, my back aching.

The next morning I met Prim for coffee. I was uneasy after the nightmare but she was cheerful and I didn't want to scare her off. I sipped at my coffee and smiled as much as I could. She invited me back to her place, I obviously wasn't going to pass that opportunity up. Walking in, there were paintings all over. Christ, Martin Lurther King, John Kennedy, even Ghandi. I asked her why she had all of these hanging around, all those eyes watching would've creeped me the fuck out.

"I believe in Christiantiy, change, and peace. Would you like something to eat?" I nodded, sitting on a chair. I swiveled around to look back at the paintings. Choking on my water, I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. The paintings had been turned to their sides, barely hanging on the hook as faces were staring back at us. A giant symbol was torched into the centers of the portraits. Pentagrams. I turned back around to tell Prim, she was nowhere to be found. I let out a scream as I felt something burning in between my shoulder blades. Reaching back to stop the pain, I felt it. A handle and a cold blade. I fell forward, my head slamming into the table.

I awoke the next morning in my bed, remembering everything in perfect detail. I started over to her house and knocked for a good ten minutes before giving up. I decided to head back over to the coffee shop hoping to find her. Sure enough, there she was, sitting across from another man. I felt the rage building up and went in, sitting in the corner staring coldly at them as they laughed together. I got up and walked over to them, getting close and whispering into the strangers ear.

"Penta.."

I could feel his gaze searing into my back, staring at the knife lodged securely between my shoulder blades. The unease settling over him as he woke up.

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