Life Sucks but Loves Bites (Re-Editing)

The Prince of Darkness wants me to be his what?!

I walked up my driveway with my car keys in my back pocket and my car about three blocks away. After I keyed up Vic's car he got kind of mad… okay maybe mad isn’t the right term he was pissed really and well… he slashed my tires while I was driving. So with a broken window, two slashed tires, and after running into a telephone pole my car was pretty much trashed. I really liked that car too. Of course I could just go and get it repaired but that was a hassle and besides I already had another car. The other car was in the garage behind my house so there was really no need to get the other one repaired. I only drove that rust bucket so that I could blend in with the other teenagers better. I mean I felt kind of bad flaunting how much old money my family had. However, now I could roll around in my other better vehicle, my Jaguar. My Jag was my baby, she had a sliver paint job that was polished to perfection. I had my seats personalized with a black interior with a red stripe down the middle. Not to mention the fact that I had just installed a surround sound system that could blow your undead socks off and finally, I had a sliver skull in the center of the stirring wheel.

I hopped up the steps to the front door and heard my keys jiggled slightly against one another and I smiled lightly. I remembered going through the hassle of hiring a locksmith to modify my car locks to match one single key but now I was happy that I had.

My smiled slipped away as I noticed the living room lights on and with a quick glance at my cell phone my face quickly formed into a frown. As soon as I stepped into the house the sweet smell of peppermint swirled in my nose as I took of Danyelle's 'borrowed' tennis shoes off and tossed them randomly on the floor. A warm calming feeling settled in as I took my first steps into the mud room.

I love my home

It always seemed to have this soothing atmosphere to it and I smiled as I walked my way into the living room.

Did I say that I loved home? I HATE home! HATE, HATE, HATE IT!

I had stopped in mid step and my whole body seemed to shake in fear as his smell hit me light a powerful blow to the face. I staggered back as my heart raced coldly in my chest seeming to freeze the blood flowing through my veins. There on the couch was Pri-…Winden.

AHH! He's on my favorite couch…. Now we have to burn it.

Time just seemed to flow in slow motion as he turned carefully in his seat to face me. His sharp facial features were a sickly white color which made his green eyes as sharp as clear cut glass. When his eyes focused onto my face the corners of his pale thin lips twitched up in to a cruel smile. It took every ounce of restraint I had in me to hold back a shudder. A man with short salt and pepper hair gave me a wary smile. His eyes were littered with held back tears that made his brilliant green eyes look murky. Something was defiantly wrong here.

"Dad, is everything all rig-

"Your father is fine, he and I hit a few small bumps in our conversation but we've come to an agreement on it now. Haven't we Edmund?" Winden turned towards my father and gave him a simple stare.

"Yes my Lord, we have.” My father said sternly.

I snuck a glare at Winden while his head was turned, what was he up to?

It's an ambush run for the hills!

I walked over to my father and placed a hand on his shoulder before I sat down next to him. A knot formed in my stomach, as I whispered ever so softly in his ear.

"Where's mom?"

Before he could utter a word the kitchen doors burst open. My mother strolled out of the kitchen with a black and green Vivien Vatlie Italian dress on and her long goldish brown hair loose across her small bare pale shoulders. She sashay her tiny little waist into the living room with a gentle smile on her flawless face and carried a mug in each of her delicate hands. The one on her left said "#1 dad' which I had given him on father's day about a year ago, and the one in her right hand had a picture of a pig behind a purple curtain with the words ' this isn't what you think it is' across the side. She handed #1 Dad to father and the other to Winden. I looked over to my mother. She had a small glint in her eyes as she stared at Winden’s mug. She was scheming something. As Winden tilted the mug to his mouth I saw the corners of moms lips tug up.