Ariadne Dacre ♚ D7 [fin]

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A is for Amber who drowned in the pool
B is for Billy who was eaten by ghouls
C is for Curt with disease in the brain
D is for Daniel derailed on a train
E is for Eric who was buried alive
F is for Frank who was stabbed through the eye
G is for Greg who died in the womb
And H is for Heather who was sealed in a tomb

I.

Her face is heart-shaped, with a jawline that could chisel granite, and a wide forehead covered by thick, chocolate bangs. Her cheekbones are high and wide, giving the impression of an apple-cheeked doll, one that has a bright red smile painted on her porcelain skin. Her eyebrows are thick and untamed, arching over long, full eyelashes and deep-set azure eyes. Her nose is snub, upturned and appears crinkled with distaste. Her lips are full, curved slightly at the edges, with a pearl pink tongue dancing playfully around the edges of her mouth. Her arms are long and slender, and her legs gangly and pale, marked with a disorganized array of stretch marks (from growing too fast, mind you). She has large, clumsy feet, which she keeps trying to convince the world are those of a dancer. Her posture is somewhat lazy, one shoulder commonly hooked up, her legs bent out of shape, and her head down as if she is bored. However, give her a knife and a target, and she'll straighten up her back and get ready to take somebody out, with tooth (which are a bit crooked, some teeth growing out of line and some growing behind others) and nail (which are dirty stubs, common targets of her teeth during panic attacks or fits of rage). She doesn't have those scars on her arm and callouses on her hands for nothing, after all.

I is for Isaac who lost his front brakes
J is for Johnny who was bitten by snakes
K is for Kimmy who was shot in the head
L is for Larry who bled and bled
M's for Marie who burned to a crisp
N is for Nick who was pummeled by fists
O is for Olive who lived life too fast
P is for Pat who swallowed some glass

II.

Oh, look at the pretty flowers! Let me crush them in my hands.

Ria is not nature's friend, which is unusual coming from one of District Seven. In all of her seventeen years, she had never once dreamed of going outside and playing in the woods. She didn't chase down fireflies and catch them in a jar, or crawl onto a hill and stare at the horizon, wondering how many stars there were and how many she could catch. She didn't care for the mockingjays or the raccoons or the bumblebees in the garden. When she was a mere child, she smashed a glass vase and proceeded to crush the petals of every rose inside that vase. She was once told, pain demands to be felt, but she twisted the words of that wise man, and she said, I demand that pain feels me. Ria was silent the majority of the time, but when she did cry, she made quite the ruckus. She threw tantrums, beating against the edge of her crib and throwing toys everywhere. It seemed she would cry for no reason, as if she knew her life goal was to traumatize everyone in her household.

The average bystander would be able to figure out quickly that Ariadne was standoffish. She would isolate herself from the crowd, and only keep her sister Shiloh in her company. Ria would fiddle with the wristbands that she always wears, or tug at the ribbon around her neck. She would occasionally reach into her boot and run her fingers along the concealed blade of a kitchen knife. Her mind was not always set on killing, but she always intended to give her peers a good scare. She had only killed four people in her whole killing career; it had been three years since she first began.

Ria would leave the crime scene after the deed was done, and instead of scrubbing all the dirt and blood from under her fingernails, she'd press her fingers against a blank canvas and paint. She'd paint grim visages of her victim with their own blood, not as a form of mockery but rather as a memorial. While killing and harming was her passion, art was more of a hobby. Why not combine the two?

And to think, such a vicious monster used to be a fragile, frightened little bunny.

Q is for Quentin who took the wrong trail
R is for Reyna who rotted in jail
S is for Steve who was shot with a bow
T is for Tori who froze in the snow
U is for Urich who was trampled by hooves
V is for Vanessa who fell off a roof
W is for Willow who was hit by a car
X is for Xavier who sunk in the tar
Y is for Yessy who fell from a plane
And Z is for Zach who simply went insane

III.

A fourteen-year-old Ariadne made her way into the bedroom she shared with her sister, leading a trail of footprints from the doorway. She shuddered, throwing her jacket to the side and kicking off her boots. What little light that filtered in from the curtains was enough to bathe Ria's blood-covered body in white. She could feel Shiloh's eyes on her, and hear the uneven breaths she was taking. A crooked grin crossed Ariadne's face, and she climbed on top of Shiloh's bed, pinning her wrists against the headboard. "I killed a man, Shiloh," she whispered excitedly, trembling. It was not a man she had killed, but rather a boy who had gotten on her last nerve. Such a pity, the poor thing was only eleven. "Stabbed him right in the ear. I killed a man."

I'm not afraid of the world anymore.

Over the years, she had been constantly locking herself away under her basement stairs. She'd have her notebook in hand, and words on her mind. Then, the spider queen would weave an intricate tale, a web so sticky that even the strongest of men could not fight their way out once they had wandered their way in. The last page had all her fears, a jumble of words with dark scratches through them or ink blots over them. She was slowly rising to the surface, dirty bronze rings glittering on her fingers and a knife concealed in her pale, scarred fist. There was an explanation for every last one of her fears, and an explanation of how she overcame it.

i.
Brontophobia.
The fear of thunder and lightning.
The nights in the dark. The night when the tree fell in our yard.
The night when I ran up to the hills and screamed up at the sky everytime thunder rolled.

ii.
Acrophobia.
The fear of heights.
The day I fell from a tree and broke my leg.
The day I went jumping from roof to roof with Shiloh.

iii.
Claustrophobia.
The fear of small spaces.
The day that burly man tried to force me into that closet with him.
The day I crammed myself into that same closet months later, hiding from Father's drunken wrath.

iv.
Kainotophobia.
The fear of change.
The day the roof caved in, and we had to move.
The day everything changed for the better.

The last word on the page, one with a large red circle around it. She ran her fingers along the smooth, curvy letters, her steel blue eyes emotionless. The one that had plagued her for years on end.

v.
Arachnophobia.
The fear of spiders.
The day a tarantula crawled up my leg in the forest.
The day I let a spider crawl onto my glove-protected palm, and I closed my fingers and crushed it.

In all the time she had spent trying to cure her irrational fears, she had come to a conclusion. The world was a wicked place. And either you got it all, or you got nothing. Ria wanted everything.

And everything she would get.

One by one we bite the dust
We kick the bucket, begin to rust
Give up the ghost when your number's up
We all fall down
Ashes to ashes, bones to paste
You'll wither away in your resting place
Eternity in a wooden case
We all fall down

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