Welcome to the religious little town of Amphele, tucked away near the outskirts of the infamous forest rumored to house the world's greatest horrors. But you could care less about urban legends, even if they were real. Surrounded by self-righteous elders who swore you were the devil's spawn and your snobbish peers who thought of you to be nothing more than a punching bag, your life seemed to be nothing more than a thick fog full of cruel surprises. However, meeting the white-faced killer was the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to you, and you soon grow fond of his attitude and constant cross demeanor. But as you both grow closer to each other, you realize that there is more to him than his homicidal giddiness and well practiced bladesmanship, and that they are many things hidden deep beneath his permanent smile.
Step into the shoes of Lucille Isabelle, and immerse yourself in your new world now dyed crimson.
Hello! Thank's for poppin' by! Please tell me what you lovely people think of the take of the classic "you-in-the-story" approach and this story as a whole. It's my first! I'm sorry if it's lacking! XD I'll post warnings when there will be smut moments in the story, but the main focus is Jeff.
All in practice, yes? :D Happy reading~
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There are many days you wake up to find yourself questioning if you're really supposed to exist. All you've ever wanted was to feel accepted, not ogled at constantly as if you were a museum display. There was a time when you were proud of your looks, a time when you were only 3 feet tall and full of spunk, and every kid in kindergarten would stare at you in awe, wondering just who exactly the albino girl was.
But those days have long passed.
The children who once admired your long platinum blonde hair and snowy eyes now gawked at you obnoxiously, making obscene gestures as you walked by. Called you a freak of nature. A ghost. A mistake on God's part. Incomplete. Unfinished. Useless. And your previously high self-esteem gradually crumbled into nothing but dust.
Your father thought it would be a good idea to move you and himself to another distant town due to the cheating fiasco your mother stirred. The two of you left the busy city life for the quiet small town a few hours away from your home after your sixteenth birthday. You had hoped that the change in scenery would help, but was sorely disappointed to find that the kids in your new high-school were just as rotten as the ones you left, if not worse. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.
However, today was different from the moment you got out of bed.
It was the last class period of the day, listening to the middle-aged man up front drawl on about Southeast Asia. History was always your favorite class, and you consistently took notes from the words on the slide show.
You hear a soft pfft somewhere in the lecture hall and felt a hard jab in the back of your head shortly after. Your pen froze as your body went rigid at the sound of muffled snickering. You resisted the urge to turn and glare daggers at the boys behind you, setting you jaw in the familiar irritated clench. You returned to your studies.
Pfft!
Another one smacked your earlobe right above the tender spot on your new piercing. You wince in pain and lightly rub the silver bar. These boys had better stop their jerking around. Now.
Your teacher suddenly raises a question to the class. Just as you are about to raise your hand, another spit ball nicks the back of your exposed neck. You slam your hand back down on the desk and whirl around in your seat, giving your signature death glare to the boys who were desperately trying to smother their laughter.
"Will you dicks knock it off?! This isn't kindergarten anymore!" you yell.
The teacher does a double take and walks to your desk, raising his voice as he does. "What was that outburst just now miss Lucille?"
You point defensively at the classmates behind you, who now used their typical façade of innocence. "These guys were throwing spit balls at me."
"We didn't do anything to her," one boy said. "Nobody wants her, much less touch her with stuff." This earned a snicker among the class.
"Yeah? Then explain these then!" You hold all three spit balls in the air with a bright, defiant look in your eyes. You were in the right and they knew it. You felt it deep in your gut. Justice would be served; there was no way they were getting away with this.
Unfortunately, your teacher shared none of your zeal and simply stared back at you with an odd look on his pocketed face. "And what does this prove? You have a history of poor conduct, so I'm sure you can understand why I'm not inclined to believe you claim."
Your face instantly grew dark with anger. "Are you serious right now?!" you scoffed. The evidence was right there is his face! You're practically giving it to him as a present!
"I gotta side with ole' teach on this one. I mean, she probably just chewed the paper herself," a boy muttered.
"I agree. Disgusting little thing isn't she?" you heard a girl whisper.
"You think she starves herself to the point where she can only eat paper now? She's practically paper herself." another girl whispered.
"Ew. Cannibal."
The class was swept with a wave of laughter and teasing as you stood there with your arm still raised. You look to the balding man with a look of sincere pleading.
"Please...I-I'm telling the truth..."
The teacher did nothing but grunt and slip you a piece of all too familiar pink paper and bold letters. You let your arm fall to your side, staring hard at your boots as hot, angry tears threatened to spill. This was the third time this week. You didn't allow yourself to be an emotional girl, but the anger that scorched your chest burned with the fierce intensity that made your shoulders shake and your fists tighten. You wanted a way to release it and not just bottle it up like you've done for so long. You needed it.
The bell rang, snapping you back to the spot behind your desk. As you haphazardly stuffed your belongings in your bag, the boys behind you knocked into your already fragile frame while they walked past, joking around with each other as if you didn't exist. You sent another signature death glare at their backs, reminding yourself that one day, they will get what's coming.
You leave the detention hall in a hurry with your ear buds in, eager to leave the dark building as soon as possible. Your dad texted you that he wouldn't be home for the weekend, which you promptly rolled your eyes at and stuffed your phone in your pocket. You knew he would be staying with girlfriend #4's house no matter how many times he tried to convince you otherwise. He always came back home well into the night reeking of sex and cigarette smoke. Disgusting pig of a man, you thought. You barely notice how dark it had gotten as you turned the corner to your house. All you want now is a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep, grateful it was a Friday. You make it a few steps on the sidewalk when you notice a large, bulky silhouette further down the street.
Shit.
You knew who they were, and they knew you.
Trying to avoid being noticed, you start to walk faster down the street. You instantly recognize the smell of marijuana and the guttural grunts of teenage boys and the high-pitched laughter of teenage girls, all huddled underneath the shade of a tree. One of them noticed the white shadow clad in black by the fence. They called out to you.
