She laid in her cell with nothing but the clothes on her back and the taste of blood on her lips. Her beaten and bruised body ached. In any minute she would face execution.
She closed her eyes. Upon opening them the sun had risen. Her body was too heavy to move at first but she fought through the pain to stand. She forced herself to the floor where she began doing push ups. She preformed that same movement far past the point of her muscles burning and her endorphins setting her mind ablaze. She kept going until a guard came for her. He unlocked her cell and she stood. She walked with him, staring him down as she passed him, her bare feet collecting cuts for rocks to lodge themselves within.
Her long black hair fell to her feet. Her oval shaped face and sharp chin paired with strong cheekbones and piercing, bright blue eyes like ice. Her bushy eyebrows and wide nose were obstructed by a thick purple scar.
Upon opening the double doors to the dungeon the blinding rays of the sun slammed into her, burning into her flesh. She closed her eyes and kept walking, eventually allowing herself the sight of the gallows.
She squared her shoulders, her face cold. She was lead to a platform that stood tall before a sea of bloodthirsty onlookers. She held her chin high and looked down her nose at them, for she was condemned for the same fault they each held within them. Before the brute beside her could make his move she dropped to her knees and held her head below the blade. She closed her eyes and breathed, sinking into a perfect world that only existed behind her eyes.
She opened the door of her home to lay her eyes onto her mother. She cradled little Jack, both warmed by the fire and held snug under their quilt. The dying girl brought herself to her mother and bent to kiss her cheek.
"Love."
Her mother's hand cupped her cheek, her heartbroken gaze melted the dying girl's heart, "I love you, my baby."
All went black, but only for a moment, before she was standing again before the shack. She brought her fingers to her throat and her head became unbalanced. She touched her head to find that it was simply laid atop her neck. She tore away a piece of her shirt to secure her head more tightly before she walked inside.
Her mother was never beautiful aside from her eyes that held pure, everlasting love. The same was true now. She sat beside her mother and watched as the woman's face fell to her daughter.
"My baby," The mother's voice was now the creak of an old door, "My body feels so stiff."
The Dead Girl reached out to take her mother's free hand. Her brother laid in the older woman's arms, his long lashes resting against his cheeks.
"Someone came for you."
"Who?"
"They have no name, nor face, nor voice, my sweet, for all of these things are fading. Go into your room and you will see."
The Dead Girl kissed her mother's cheek and retreated to her room, stopping before the door to assess what she may find within. Tentatively she turned the knob and stepped inside. The small room was filled with purple flowers. Vines lined the walls. In the middle of the moss covered floor stood a coffin, atop which laid a dead rose aside a thick black fog. The fog took the shape of a human. It shifted from male to female, young to old, thin to fat, etcetera.
She didn't need for the deity to speak, she simply knew what the deity wished of her.
Imbued with a sense of purpose she fell to her knees before the deity. A respectful fear was held within her for the being. This fear fell away when she was enveloped within the fog, held in the loving arms of her deity. It was then she allowed herself to weep. Her weeping turned to sobs, ugly, breathless, and twisted. She sobbed until she was gasping for air. Clutching her chest she fell to the floor where she closed her eyes and was taken away by her exhaustion.
She awoke still wearing her rags, now damp and covered in muck. Her mouth was grimy. The air was stale and poisoned with decay. She opened her eyes to stalactites baring over her. She looked around. A single ray of light called her to the entrance of the cave, and so she walked past corpse after corpse until she came to the mouth of the cave where a body laid. It was recently dead but still unrecognizable. She crouched before the body. She softly laid her hand against its chest. Closing her eyes she reached within him to pull his life to the forefront. She felt him inhale deeply. She opened her eyes to look down to him. His face was mangled gore with a gaping hole where his mouth had been. His name was Peter. He was a servant of the king.
She stood and he followed suit. He pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. The ghost of a smile touched her lips.
"Dead go outside. then guard."
He bowed to her and she walked off to a nearby stream. She pulled off her clothes and laid them on a rock to be licked by the waves before she stepped into the stream. The warm water soothed her. She rinsed her hair and scrubbed her body as best she could. She then beat her clothes with a rock. After dressing herself she made her way toward the nearest village. The tall grass clung to her wet legs. The heat from the sun slowly dried her as it forced its way through the dense leaves above.
When she came to the village she stopped and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath she listened for the call her deity promised her. The song within the king's black heart poured over the land. It was the howl of a tortured soul, as if a banshee sang instead of screaming. She tuned out the sound. Focusing on the village she heard the call from another heart, it was a weak hum that pulled her forward until she found a man. She stared at him as he fed his horse. Listening to the sound, now much louder, she could hear his story. It was one of hedonism in the most depraved fashion.
When he turned his eyes fell onto her. She looked much like the wife he'd almost lost, and so she said the first words that unfortunate soul had said to him.
"Well, aren't you handsome?"
His eyes widened. Memories crossed his weathered face. Ten years ago he was handsome but time had ravaged him. Still, he was tall and fit. Too gruff for her to be attracted to him but she could understand another finding him to be handsome.
"You saying you want to get to know me?"
"I feel I do."
He closed in on her. His gaze was dark and his scarred mouth was twisted in a sneer.
"Somewhere private?"
He took her arm and lead her to his home. Once inside he shoved her against the wall and pressed his mouth to hers. She couldn't call what he did kissing, and thus she let go of any hope for pleasure.
He lifted her and carried her to his bed where he threw her onto the mattress and pulled off his shirt and pants. He climbed atop her to undress her. His fingers immediately found her sex. She made herself whimper immediately, forcing a smug grin onto his face.
She moved to climb atop him. She leaned back and let him take her in. She had considered letting herself find her release but she knew that wouldn't come from him. Feigning seduction she held his gaze as she leaned forward on her hand and plunged her claws into his chest, closing her fist around his heart and ripping it from him, gore spraying from the cavern below her. The organ beat once before it died, the song dying with it. The Dead Girl sunk her teeth into the meat. The metallic muscle was rich. She groaned as she ate. Her hunger took over her body and before she knew it she was licking her hand clean. She looked down at the man's corpse as she did, a black cloud lowering over her.
Suddenly sick she jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom where she ran the bath and sat on the cold porcelain as it filled. She hugged her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes. Through shaking breaths she licked her lips, her stomach churning against the taste of iron. She felt tears crawl down her face. Suddenly every inch of her was filthy.
She thought back to the fog. She could already feel the power brewing within her. She tried to soothe herself, to tell herself that she saved lives. Even if that was true her hands were still filthy. She was filthy.
Absently she grabbed soap and rubbed her alabaster skin. Through the mirror to her right she could see that a thick purple scar marred her throat. She could only stand to look for a moment.
When she finished cleaning herself she walked into the bedroom, avoiding the sight of the body. She pulled on a white dress and a matching choker, mentally thanking his wife as she did.
She ambled into the cellar. It was small. In the middle of the room was what could have been her twin. She stared down at the woman, Constance, malnourished and nude. Her vacant black eyes were sunken. Her heart made no sound. Her body was covered in scabs and bruises. The Dead Girl undid the woman's binds and lifted her into her arms. She laid her on the couch and retrieved clothes to dress her. She then knelt before Constance. A single tear trickled into the cushion. The Dead Girl's cold fingers stroked the woman's cheek.
"Safe now."
"Water," Constance groaned before coughing loudly.
The Dead Girl retrieved a glass of water and some fruit for Constance. The woman downed her drink and The Dead Girl cut away slices of the apple to feed her.
"Who are you?"
"Un-portant."
Constance's brows pinched together.
"Follow."
The Dead Girl walked out of the house. She untied the man's horse and let Constance sit behind her. Together they fled to her cave where bodies were piled out front. The Dead Girl hopped off the horse and tied him to a tree. She walked to one of the corpses and knelt before her. She laid her hand over the still heart, Constance's eyes fixed on her as she did. She pulled life from the thief.
When she opened her eyes she saw the progress of her necromancy; the girl was not only alive but reinvigorated. Color had returned to her cheeks and light lived within her brown eyes.
The Dead Girl stood, the thief mirroring her. The thief looked at her like she was perfection personified.
"You connections?"
"Do I have connections?"
"Yes."
"I do."
"Can make cave home?"
"It'll take some time but I am owed some favors."
"Good. First food for Constance," The Dead Girl motioned to the older woman who stood there in awe, "I need sleep. You guard. After more dead, less work for you."
"Thank you."
The Dead Girl nodded and wandered into her cave. She laid atop a slab of cool stone and closed her eyes. She had intended to sleep but instead she waited for the eyes locked onto her to gain a voice.
"What are you?" Constance asked finally.
"Un-portant."
"Why do you speak like that?"
"Mind own."
"Why did you save me?"
"Silence."
Constance sat down beside her. The Dead Girl opened her eyes to give Constance a tired stare she likely couldn't decipher in the low light. The Dead Girl, however, could easily see the quiver of the older woman's lips, the furrow of her brow, and her fidgeting hands.
"Undead."
"What do you mean?"
"I died. I'm back."
"Why?"
"You will know."
"When?"
"Unsure."
"What's your name?"
"No name."
Constance's head tilted to the side. Her brows drew closer. The Dead Girl sat up, resting her back against the wall.
"You can leave. Not to village. Danger there."
"I don't want to leave," She murmured.
"Don't have to, but can."
"I'm just confused," Her voice broke and she sobbed into her hands.
The Dead Girl looked everywhere but at Constance. She reached into her memories to find her mother. She took a deep breath and pulled Constance to her to rest the older woman's head on her lap. Constance hid her face in The Dead Girl's thighs. She sobbed louder and louder, The Dead Girl's only response stroking the girl's hair.
"I'm sorry," Constance said finally, "It all just hit me at once. The last year was so hazy."
"I know."
Constance wiped her tears with the dress. She cuddled The Dead Girl's legs.
"What do you mean you know?"
"Saw through his eyes."
"May I ask you something, please?"
"Yes."
"Why did he...?"
"He's broken. It's not you."
"You must think-"
"-Shh," The Dead Girl hushed her, stroking Constance's hair, "You're beautiful. In out. Sleep now."
The Dead Girl's cold, stony hand caressed Constance's face, roaming over her bone structure. She watched as Constance's body relaxed. It was then she let herself sleep, her fingers still tangled in Constance's soft hair.
The Dead Girl awoke at the crack of dawn. The first thing she looked at was the mouth of the cave where the morning light poured in to illuminate the thief and the servant. She walked to the guards.
Standing in the mouth of the cave she could see a bonfire where a rack of meat stood. The thief stood beside several large sacks.
"Tired?"
"No," The thief chirped as the servant shook his head.
"Take care of self."
The Dead Girl stepped into the sun and looked left to the stream where Constance was washing her hair with a bar of soap. In just looking at her breathing came easier. Knowing she was safe let the sun burn brighter. The Dead Girl laid by the fire, her bare feet facing the embers. They had lost their blue tint since the day before and were finally pink. She stared into the sky and reminded herself of the life she saved, of the life she was giving to her three people, of those depending on her. She could still feel the filth within her. Her only question was whether or not she would adapt or crumble after the next kill.