She slumped against the wall, panting and convulsing as blood leaked from the gash on her left cheek. It would probably leave a hideous scar, one that would turn away all men and deserve the disgusted expressions it would undoubtedly receive. Her blonde locks of silken hair were inherited from her father, but no one could deny that she got her crystalline blue eyes from her mother. They were pure and deep, filled with gentleness and kindness.
The boy standing before her, holding the knife in front of him and positioning it to where the glints of the blade and her tears stood side-by-side in his own twisted perception, had the same eyes. They were the ultimate glorious deception, portraying sheer innocence yet worn by the most wicked and hell-bound of creatures. His hair was raven, like his mothers and slightly longer than the hair of an average teenage boy. Falling over his face like the very shroud of death itself, it only enhanced the enchanted, androgynous image of his gorgeous elfin face.
Even as he pulled the knife back to his mouth and licked the blood from it’s blade, he still looked gentle, he still seemed to embody sweetness. The girl watched him, amazed at his looks even now, after months of his torment.
She was still now, as still as the air before a violent storm disrupts the peace off the spring-time eve. One would wonder who truly had the upper hand between the two. The boy tortured her with unrelenting physical abuse, scarring her young body and destroying her hope for a possibly bright future. In turn, her ghostly silence and stillness, the pure beauty and sincere innocence that she possessed, ripped and shredded the remains of his conscience, beating and stabbing what was left of his once righteous soul, and then poured salt into the open wounds of his heart. Each time he hurt her, she hurt him back, with unintentional yet unstoppable agony.
He dropped the knife, watching her eyes slightly flinch as its impact against the floor made a somehow terrifying sound. He studied her face, her empty expression. Her eyes were slowly changing, turning into the lifeless voids that their mother wore seven months ago, as she lay in horrifying silence on the very floor they were standing on. Seven months ago Christoph and Crissy, the two siblings who now torture each other with beautiful brutality, were considered relatively normal. Crissy was sweet, cheerful, and incredibly cute. She was twelve years old and held the potential to be anything she so desired. Christoph was slightly different. He also had great potential and stunning looks, but he was quiet and introverted. His parents had become worried, but he bitterly rejected all their attempts to help him. The only person he allowed to get even slightly close to him was Crissy, his darling little sister.
The two of them were inseparable, so close that their parents worried on occasion that Christoph would have a negative effect on Crissy. At seventeen years old, he was her hero, and thus had much influence on her. But on that horrid afternoon, when everything ended and then began again in a seemingly twisted, alternate reality, Christoph and Crissy came home from school to find their parents sprawled out across the living room floor with bullet holes all over their bodies. The sight devastated each of them and all they could do was turn to each other. Authorities allowed them to live there on their own, since Christoph would be eighteen in two weeks, and they had no other relatives. This was a mistake that inevitably doomed both of their spirits.