living dead girl; jordan hendricks

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<font size="2">Her skin was damp, coated with love and flushed with pink undertones. She was relaxed, and in truth, there was nothing in the world that felt better to her than this. She could stay like this forever; naked, with the cool sheets tangled around her arms and legs. She was just about to drift off to sleep when the movement next to her stirred her from the state of only half-awareness. And that's when her world came crashing down. That 'on cloud nine' feeling was gone, and she found herself staring into dark brown eyes. Not the eyes of the one she actually loved (someone who?s name was always on the tip of her tongue), but rather someone meaningless. Someone who was nothing more than a distraction, a quick fix, a replacement for the one who was always just out of reach, right on the edge of her fingertips. Damn it.

Calloused fingers were trailing along her face now, mainly over her lips and jaw line. It was one of those affectionate things that men did for some reason or another and she didn?t like it. Not when he did it, at least. Her face remained blank-- emotionless, which was odd. If you knew her, you?d know that she wore her heart on her sleeve. She was easy to read and even easier to hurt, but not in a situation like this. ?It?s time for me to go.? She said finally, escaping from his loving caresses and tender looks. Christ, it made her sick to her stomach. She always acted this way when men fell all over her. She?d already deemed it a curse years ago.

She?d crossed the room with alarming speed, hips still managing to sway gracefully with her steps, and had just finished slipping on her skirt when the feeling of something warm wrapping around her upper arm stopped her dead in her tracks. A slow turn of her neck had her looking over her shoulder, eyes finding (once again!) the same brown eyes staring back at her. How irritating. ?Nathan,? she hissed out between her teeth, ?I told you, I need to get going.? She tried to jerk her arm out of his grip, but he held on tight. Uh oh. He was giving her ?the look.? You know, the deadbeat stare with glossed over eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

?Jordan..? His voice was hoarse, and he was raking his free hand through the tousled blonde hair on top of his head. ?Why do you always leave?? He sounded so sad, so confused, that for a split second, she almost felt sorry for him. Until she remembered that she had told him from the very beginning that none of this meant anything, that it never would. Apparently, it had went through one ear and out the other.

?Nathan, don?t do this to yourself.? She?d purposely kept her gaze from falling on him again, and instead stared at the pile of clothes on the floor. Her clothes. The one?s she wanted to put on so she could get the hell out of there.

?Jordan, I love you. Why don?t you understand that? Is this all because of ---? Before a name could come tumbling clumsily out of his mouth, she turned on him, arm finally jerking out of his grip.

?Don?t you dare say it.? She growled. ?No, it isn?t because of him. It?s because I don?t fall in love, Nathan. It?s because I told you from the start that nothing would come of this. I told you that as soon as one of us started getting attached, whether it was me or you, it?d be over.? And she was one to stay true to her word. It was amazing how calm and steady her voice was considering how fast and hard her heart was beating. Not because she was excited about what he?d just told her, but because she knew something bad was about to happen. Call it instinct, call it a sixth sense, but this was not going to end well.

There was a long silence following after her statement, and it worried her. She could hear the little wheels whirling around in Nathan?s mind, and it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Nathan wasn?t exactly the nicest guy around. ?Well, I?m just gonna have to have a little chat with your lover boy, then.? He?d finally said. Another one of his threats. He always threatened her with things like that and she just usually brushed them off. But this time? This time, he sounded like he meant it. Which meant there was only one thing she could do now.

She turned around to face him, hands moving behind her back while a slow smile spread across her mouth. Evil? Nah. She wasn't the evil one. In fact, the man was damn lucky it was Jordan he was dealing with, and not Scythe. ?Do whatever makes you feel better.? It was better to agree with him right now and let him think that she was giving in. Thank God she always brought her duffle bag with her, just incase she ended up in situations like these. She turned away from him, bending down quickly to unzip the bag, reaching into it to grab the first thing she felt; in this case, a hammer. With lightning fast speed, she whirled around and slammed it into his skull. A sickening crack echoed through the quiet room and he fell to the ground with a thud. She watched him as he squirmed and groaned, and she slammed the hammer into his head again. When he was knocked unconscious, She grabbed a few plastic bags and laid them out on the floor. She rolled his body onto them and then went to work.

For the next two hours, she scrubbed, cleaned, and burned anything that might have her on it; his sheets, the clothes he had been wearing, his shoes .. everything. In a way, her OCD helped her get through these situations. She never left a piece of evidence behind, and everything was wiped clean. Her hammer was cleaned and put back into her bag, a cell phone taking its place in her hand. A number was dialed, and very shortly afterwards, someone picked up on the other line.

Jordan was shaking, surprisingly. She always did when she pulled a stunt like this. She was an emotional wreck, and sometimes, it got her into trouble. But she wouldn't cry. If she did, that meant she'd have to clean the house for two straight hours again just because of a tear drop. "Y-yeah, Tabitha?" Tabitha was the code name Jordan gave Scythe, just in case someone was tapping in on the phone line. "I left the birdcage open again." she explained, staring hard at the body on the floor. He was still alive, she knew this. That's why she needed help. She couldn't do it on her own. "I need help catching the bird." She waited approximately six seconds before she hung up, and waited for her partner in crime to show up.

Murder. It came so easily to her, and would always be a part of her life no matter how bad she felt about it afterwards. It had been drilled into her brain, into her blood, and she couldn't turn her back on it, no matter how hard she tried.</font>

<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ July 31, 2008 04:37 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>