There she is. This girl is so unfamiliar, and she looks so out of place. She looks to be either a well-developed seventeen year old or deceptively in her early twenties. Her blonde hair is neatly styled into pretty little ringlets and her green eyes peer nervously around. Lights blink and flash rhythmically to the music. She waits, and despite being so beautiful, she stands alone in her somewhat old-fashioned little black dress, her knees nervously pinned together. She bites her bottom lip, occasionally glancing to the clock. She seems shy and quiet, yet hopeful at the same time, waiting for someone to dance with.

Or… This is what it looks like.

She isn’t what she appears to be. She’s dead. She died long ago.

Here is her story.

She was always shy and quiet, keeping to herself and focusing on her studies. She was a model student, good grades, good manners, sweet natured… She was so perfect except for a few little weaknesses. She was gullible, naïve and cripplingly shy. She lived a very sheltered life, mostly keeping her nose buried in books. She only confided in her closest friends that she was hoping someone would ask her to the school dance before summer vacation. Of course, this led to them deciding to hook her up with someone that they thought would be a perfect match for her. Believing the old adage of “opposites attract”, the girls managed to talk (what they thought) was a rather handsome boy into asking their friend to the dance, despite his record of being a juvenile delinquent.

Nobody ever asked what he did. Nobody really cared. They thought he was so “cool” and “tough”. He didn’t just ask her out. He demanded her address. He said he’d be there at five o’ clock and she’d better be ready. She didn’t know what to think. Her friends all laughed and celebrated their victory. Little did they know that pairing the two of them up would be something they’d regret for the rest of their lives.

She put on her black dress and did her best to look nice. She was absolutely stunning when she fixed herself up. Her parents were glad she was finally doing something besides staying inside reading. When the young man picked her up, her parents forced grins, which only appeared more like grimaces. They clearly weren’t too pleased with their daughter’s first date, but they did the best they could to seem thrilled. When the boy drove away with their child, they waved, but quietly, they worried.

The dance went as normal. Although she was nervous about the partner that was selected for her, she did her best to put on a smile, that is, until he started getting a little too affectionate. A slow song came on and he began to trail his hand up her leg and try to lift the corner of her dress, and occasionally run his hand over her buttocks. She would give an irritated scowl and try to smack his hand away. Hell, she barely knew him! He put up with her attempts to dissuade him for a little while longer, only to pull her body closer to his and whisper something into her ear. She was nothing short of terrified. She only weakly let her arms drape over his shoulders and rested her head against him, her mascara and eyeliner running as she cried. His advances weren’t accepted so much as tolerated. She felt violated and disgusted. She was definitely going to tell her friends that they had horrible taste in men. She quickly made up a lie in order to get out of the situation she was in.

“My parents need me home by nine. I’m supposed to call my grandmother, it’s her birthday.”

The boy didn’t quite see through it as much as he wanted to get what he was after.

“Whatever, babe. I just want to talk to you before I take you home, alright? You know, somewhere private.”

She didn’t really know what he meant by that. She only agreed and nodded. He took her by the hand and led her to the fence behind the school, she followed after him, almost thinking that he might have a nice surprise for her. She was hoping for a bouquet or maybe a box of chocolates. She was off by a long shot. Almost instantaneously, he pressed her against the fence and started to ravenously press his lips to hers, and she only tensed, trying to push him away. Her resistance only was answered with violence. His grip on her shoulders tightened hard enough to leave bruises, causing her mouth to open when she gave a startled and pained gasp, allowing his tongue entry. The same touches that had been applied during the dance repeated, only this time, he was working his way under her clothes. She attempted to knee him in the crotch and make a run for it but this only made him angry.

He slapped her, causing her to cry once more and flung her to the pavement. She caught herself, but her wrist hurt pretty badly. Was it sprained? He sat on her legs, making it impossible for her to escape. Taking a knife from his pocket, he sawed off the crotch of her underwear and stuffed it in her mouth to silence her. He pulled her hands behind her back, clearly causing some pain or discomfort judging by the muffled cry she released. He shoved his erection into her virginity and pounded away, stealing her innocence. The mascara and eyeliner ran down her cheeks, causing the illusion of black tears. He had his way. He pounded her until she was raw and sore, shooting his load off inside of her. Nothing pleased him more than knowing he’d ruined everyone’s favorite little goody-two-shoes. She felt no pleasure from this, in fact, she was still crying. He rolled her over carelessly with a foot after he zipped his pants and she pulled the remnants of her own panties out of her mouth.

“You’re sick. You’re d-disgusting! I’m telling the police!” She began to flee, only for him to realize that he was old enough to be on trial as an adult for this sort of thing.

“No you won’t.” He charged at her, knocking her over, not only ready to ruin her again, but planning on completely silencing her in the only way he knew how.

“N-no! Don’t!” Her cries fell on deaf ears. Her shoulders pressed down against the concrete, she was forced into an uncomfortable missionary position, only to be raped again. Raped until she bled. She could scream as loud as she wanted. He choked her, silencing her voice, only to finish inside of her once again. Pulling out of her when he was done, his penis covered in her fluids and blood, along with his own semen, he continued to hold her down.

“I’ll give you two choices, babe. Either you can be my little fuck toy and stay quiet about this… Or you die.” Red marks from his fingers were forming around her neck. He released his tight grip, only hoping for the answer he wanted. The thought of that little “good girl” being his own personal sex slave only was making him hard again. He rolled up her dress and was pleasuring himself before she could answer.

Her face showed a look of utter disgust. She hissed in a quiet and hateful tone. “I would rather die.”

Her green eyes showed a stubborn look, but seemed to be alight with hatred. Her assailant stared to her as if she’d accepted an unthinkable option. He still didn’t take his hand off his dick.

“Your call, babe.”

She didn’t think he would do it. She was wrong. Her jugular vein was met with cold steel. The knife dug in, creating a fatal slice. She coughed, spitting up blood, gasping. If he couldn’t have her, nobody would. As she wheezed and choked on her last breaths, the sick fuck ejaculated all over her face and stared down to her, watching her bleed out, watching the life fade from those pretty green eyes.

Her body was discarded in a dumpster. When she was found, it was clear what the cause of death was, and it was obvious what had happened to her. Her parents mourned and the young man that was responsible for this hadn’t been found. It appeared that the body was violated even further post-mortem.

Her funeral was a few days later. She was buried in the black dress that she wore to the dance and fixed up to look as angelic as she had been the night she had left. As the girl was the mother’s only daughter, she placed the heirloom emerald ring on her finger that had been passed down for generations. It was a tearful day for all who loved her. Her friends never knew what would happen to her. They didn’t know about the young man’s intentions. One even buried her face in the chest of the deceased.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Oh my God, please… Please forgive me.” Sobbing was heard from the group of girls. Both parents frowned. They both only wished they would’ve told her to stay home, but now it was too late and nothing could be done.

When the young man was found, he was imprisoned, guilty of rape and murder. Soon, he was deemed insane, as he kept saying he saw her ghost, only mumbling incoherently about “angry green eyes”. He was committed to a mental institute, and shortly after he was released, he was found dead. A gash was taken out of his neck and he was bruised and battered. He bled out, much like his victim did.

Though now dead, she still is seen rather commonly. She appears as a lonely looking girl at school dances and occasionally even appears at clubs. A number of things could happen if you encounter her.

Ask her to dance. She will probably shyly accept your invitation. Some people may ask you who you’re dancing with, as they can’t see her.

Consider that though she feels and looks very much alive, she has been dead for at least ten years.

If your hands wander and you begin to grow perverse, you will see all the bruises that her murderer inflicted on her and the wound that brought her life to an end. Her sorrowful green eyes will stare at you while her mascara runs down her cheeks. She will dissolve into a black mist and vanish before your eyes.

If you attempt to grow forceful with lust, she will kiss you passionately in return. You will taste nothing but death, blood, and decay and she will vanish, leaving you with a mouthful of maggots. Later that night, you will find her in your house. You will be strangled and beaten and a large gash will appear on the right side of your neck. You will die as she did.

Though if you are kind to her and simply want an innocent dance as she did, she will give you a pleasant little peck on the cheek and smile. This is the only case in which you will hear her voice.

“Thank you. I had a great time.” Offer to drive her home. She will politely decline. She will hand you an old emerald ring inlaid in a gold band. If you wear it, it will shine brilliantly when you are in the presence of someone who would be willing to rape and kill just to get what they wanted. If such a person touches, or is touched, by that ring, it will leave a second degree burn that itches and stings each time they get such an urge.

If you see the wallflower, please be kind to her. She doesn’t enjoy being vengeful, but it is the only way she can cope with her death.

Treat her kindly.

Written by Shinigami.Eyes 
Content is available under CC BY-SA