❝ INCOMPLETE! ❞ → SPN ✓

TWO.

The voice in her head preferred to be known as Ophelia. Ophelia liked pretty flowers, pastel colours and murdering young couples on warm Sunday evenings. And that's where Ophelia took her that day.

Ophelia was laughing maniacally, and she was trying her best to block out the screeching. It was nice for there to be someone there, but the racket Ophelia constantly made was enough to drive someone insane. What a relief she already was. Between her laughs, Ophelia ran through her plan of action, consisting of one mere point: kill the couple.

She – the girl – was controlled like a toy car as she walked up towards the couple, who were sitting by the duck pond. Ophelia made her smile, and introduce herself to the two women (who she found out were called Octavia and Lyssa). The couple grinned back, nodding when Ophelia asked them if they could walk her through the woods to get back home, claiming she was too scared to wander through them alone.

What a mistake.

As the sun was setting, they approached the canopy of leaves and branches, and made their way through. Ophelia would lead them in a direction which she knew would bring them out into a small clearing with a deep flowing river and a hungry current. The birds flew low – below the trees – and chirped happily as they swooped. The girl could feel Ophelia's anger rising, she could hear her mumbling profanities and cursing them to hell under her breath. Ophelia hated anything that didn't have to suffer like she did.

Ophelia grew impatient. She threw a glance over her shoulder, gagging when she saw Octavia and Lyssa holding hands and pecking each other on the cheek lovingly. In her living days, homosexual relationships were frowned upon and often treated as a mental disease. The girl who had become her home shushed her old-fashioned thoughts (telling her to stick her homophobic views up her arse), but soon felt her throat closing up tighter; that was Ophelia's way of reminding her where her place was. Ophelia stomped her feet slightly, scooting the couple along to make them walk faster. They exchanged a confused look – complete with furrowed eyebrows – yet made sure to quicken their step.

When they reached the clearing, Ophelia drove and parked the girl right behind the couple, swiftly slitting their throats and (literally) stabbing them in the back. The girl felt their blood run over her skin like water and trail down her arms. It was warm and sticky, yet she felt no discomfort. She felt strangely at peace, and she was uncertain whether she should have felt disgusted. The couple convulsed for a few moments, slumping to the floor and choking. The stabs hadn't killed them instantly, for that was Ophelia's preferred method of murder. She liked to see her victims writhe, to see them in total agony in their final seconds. She was one of those people that wanted to watch the world burn, and the girl who she had chosen as her vessel could do nothing but agree.

She dragged them, one at a time, towards the river and dumped their unresponsive bodies in without a second glance. They floated for a short while, and then sank to the bottom like rocks. In no more than a few minutes, they were wiped from the face of the earth, proving how fragile a human life really was.

Abruptly, the girl felt a darkness rising up through her throat and retracting from the blood flowing through her veins. She gagged and momentarily doubled over, clutching her stomach. She threw her head back and screamed as a thick cloud of black smoke flew from her mouth and dissolved into the air.

And just like that: Ophelia was gone.