Shiloh Dacre ♦ District Seven [fin]

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Innocence eroded into nightmare.

My victim is screaming, begging me to stop as I lower the axe over his throat. He is a flirt, a typical boy who had tried me one too many times. When I started showing affection back towards him, he thought he had me wrapped around his finger, just like all the stupid girls in my neighborhood. I smirk, thinking of all the girls that would swoon over him, and imagine their horror-stricken faces when they find his corpse in the morning. My sister, Ariadne, waits nearby, eyes dark with bloodlust. Her tongue dances along the curve of her thin lips hungrily, and she fidgets impatiently. "Hurry up, Shiloh. Finish him off," she says, her voice brittle.

I smirk at Ariadne, turning back to our catch. We are the spider queens, feasting on those who dare to slither into our web of lies. Fashioning dark clothes, lurking in shadows, striking fear into the hearts of many. The taste of human flesh has yet to be topped by any meal I've ever had. I've only had it once, when I was feeling a bit peckish and Ariadne had left me with the task of burying her latest victim. Since then, Ariadne has stayed by my side and made sure that I didn't eat an arm or something. The boy beneath me looked so appetizing right now, but I couldn't have him. Though, that didn't mean I couldn't watch him suffer.

I grazed the axe against his chest, humming a little tune. The more he squirmed, the deeper I buried the blade in his skin. Redness was spreading on his white clothes, and my calloused fingers were coated with dried blood. He was a pathetic mess now, his grubby little fingers attaching themselves to the hem of my short skirt. He puckered his lips, and blood dribbled down his chin. "Come on, babe," he croaked. "We can work this out."

I shook my head, a demonic grin spreading across my face. My blue eyes met those of my sister, and she began to advance. Ariadne pulled a knife from her belt, twirling it between her fingers. I leaned forward, my long nose brushing against his. "Aw, look at his little face. So sad," I whisper, my lips brushing against his. He sits up quickly, trying to kiss me, but his lips are greeted by the cold metal of Ariadne's knife.

I know what any outsider would think. Two girls, wearing skirts that barely covered their thighs, sheer stockings that were ripped up the side, and form-fitting tank tops. One guy, laying on the floor while one of the girls whispered in his ear. They'd think it was just some guy getting lucky. In reality, a man was going to die tonight.

"Ring around the rosies."

Ariadne's knife danced across his throat.

"A pocket full of posies."

My axe buried itself deep in his stomach, and blood splattered all over my pale skin. He convulsed before us, and we began to sing in unison.

"Ashes, ashes."

Ariadne forced her blade through his hand, soaking her fingers in blood. I bring my axe down on his wrist, cutting down to the bone. Blood shoots up like a fountain, drops of red landing on my white boots. There was red smeared on the floor, blood stains on the bed, and a half-dead man laying before me. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nope

"We all-"

Two severed fingers.

"Fall-"

Ariadne drove her blade into his eye socket.

"Down."

I bring my axe down on his skull, feeling the impact of the blade bouncing off of the top of his head. It was done. He had met his demise. And now that another target had been marked off our blacklist, it was time to celebrate.

---

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, using my bony fingers to comb the tangles out of my dark hair. I had ditched my clothes on the way in, exchanging my skimpy outfit for a more comfortable tracksuit. Bags linger under my blue eyes, which once sparkled with happiness, and are now dull. Seventeen years of walking the streets of Seven, three years devoted to haunting our neighbors with Ariadne at my side. I can remember a time where I frowned upon the murder of innocent people. But as time went on, I began to realize how sinister the world was, and how much like a game people treated life. I was more than happy to get them eliminated from the game. We were purifying the bloodlines of District Seven, ensuring that all our neighbors were people to be proud of, rather than having to cringe every time their name passed someone's lips. We are spiders, tiny but mighty. People speak the truth when they say we are disgusting little things. But to say we're not useful, that's a lie.

Before I agreed to become a spider queen (a heartless murderer) with Ariadne, I felt like I had no real purpose in the world. I was a part of a large family, where your only comfort was the sibling who was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to share a room with you. Ariadne and I just had that special connection as twins. She didn't exactly stroke my hair as I cried; it was more like tracking down the cause of my tears and beating the tar out of it, if possible. I stood up for her when our parents started off on one of their lectures. And of course, we terrorized our siblings together. We were destined to be partners in crime - quite literally. It's rather humorous.

---

Ariadne and I were born in late April, when flowers and insects were abundant. According to mom, Ariadne saw a vase of roses on the kitchen counter on the first week home. She crawled over to it and knocked it onto the floor, squealing in delight as the glass scattered across the floor. She then proceeded to crush the petals of the roses in her hands. And yet, our oblivious mommy dearest suspected nothing of Ariadne's disturbed nature. She also said I giggled a lot. Hard to believe that I was such an innocent creature back then, smiling like a ninny. That just goes to show you how much some one can change, and how much of an influence my sister had on me, as opposed to my eldest sister Jessamine.

My mother's name was Jenny and my father's name was Mitch. Their story was the typical Romeo and Juliet tale. Jennifer Winston wasn't rich, but she was treated like a princess by her entire family. She got good grades and had all the boys crawling on their knees after her. She may as well be the president of Panem. But of course, stupid, perfect, little Jenny thought she was worthless. She thought she wasn't pretty. She was sickeningly modest. She thought she was living on the wild side, when in reality the only harm she's ever done is accidentally crush a worm. She barfed up so many cliches that it makes me sick. Mitch Dacre is a con artist, a master of swindling. He's daring, wild, and a total flirt. I've caught him messing around with other girls, and even found him in bed with one. His love for my mother seems almost nonexistent. "I don't love your mother anymore," I remember him telling me, "I'm only staying here to keep the family together." I wouldn't blame him for wanting to leave; the family was falling apart right under Mother's nose. Mitch was cheating, Jessamine was dead, Harlow dropped out of school, Ditka ran away from home, Rhode got pregnant twice, and Arien was in an asylum. And of course, there were killers sleeping down the hall from her. I almost pity Jenny for being so dumb.

---

I remember the night Ariadne got me into the killing business. We were fourteen, and we didn't fully understand the consequences of our actions yet. I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, twiddling my thumbs, wondering why the bed next to me was empty. The door flew open, and Ariadne was on top of me, shaking me by the shoulders and smearing blood on my skin. "I killed a man, Shiloh," she whispered, eyes wide. "Stabbed him right in the ear. I killed a man."
Her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with excitement. Her body trembled, sending vibrations up my spine. Her euphoria was obvious, and that terrified me. She was happy that she killed somebody. She could turn into a dacnomaniac. I begged, and I cried, and I tensed up every time she moved. I was definitely not okay with the idea of dying at the hands of one of my own sisters.

"I won't kill you, Lo, my dear," she whispered. "Not as long as you join me. If you resist, I may just have to dispose of you. I'd hate to have to kill my own sister over my dirty little secret."

I shook my head wildly. "No. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not going to become a killer."

Ariadne stuck out her lip, lightly tapping my nose. "Oh, what a shame. Tell me, Shiloh... Would you prefer that I splay your lungs out across your chest or strangle you with your own intestines? Or maybe, sever your head, just to make it quick? Digging your grave will certainly be a task. You were always my favorite sister..." I trembled as cold metal was pressed against my cheek, dancing upwards, leaving a trail of red footprints behind it. A stream of silver tears trickled down my face, and my quiet sobs were reduced to whimpers. "Fine, fine. I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"

"First off," Ariadne murmured, pressing her thumb against my eyelid and wiping away the tears. "Stop your crying. Only the weak shed tears."

---

I've wanted to cry so many times since then. The day Ditka bailed out on us, the day Rhode miscarried her baby, or the day Jessamine died of drug overdose. I feel guilty for every death I've caused. Ariadne said we were in this together, that we were royalty, but she's doing all the dirty work. She just leaves me to clean up after her or rushes me so she can take over and take credit for the kill. Even as a spider queen, I feel like I have no place in the world. A fragment of my soul still lingers in that void, trying to break free. Maybe I should've run to mother that day, gotten Ariadne sent to the detention center. But then I would've lost my best friend, the one who's been at my side since the beginning. I know it's wrong to take the lives of other people, but maybe it's worth it. I just have to keep my eyes dry, and trick myself into thinking what I am doing is for the better.

I am a queen.

Queens have to do what's best for their subjects.

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