Page 1 of Pretty Monsters

Moonlight and Shadows

Sin

Flickingthe lid off my lighter, I touch the flame to the end of my cigarette. The paper crackles with the first satisfying pull of nicotine into my lungs. I move to sit on the edge of my windowsill and swing my legs to hang outside. There’s just enough light to see down to the ground below, but as usual nothing here is worth looking at.

For probably the millionth time, I wonder if tonight will be the night I let go and fall into oblivion. Who would miss me? I only have one friend, and absolutely no family. If that were all, I could go out into the world and build a life, but what kind of life could I build on a foundation of blood and bones?

A board creaks on the porch three floors below me. All the outside lights are off and I can barely make out a delicate figure running across the manicured lawn toward the gazebo. It’s enough of a distraction to snap me out of my morbid thoughts. Perhaps I just need change, anything different from the banality and darkness of my daily life.

A woman I’ve never seen before, certainly not in this house of horrors, enters into the silvery moonlight. There’s a lonely grace to her movements. I watch with rapt fascination as she hastens across the wide lawn, her long, dark hair dancing behind her in the breeze.

She wears a white nightgown that falls to her knees, but the weak light penetrates the thin material, making it mostly translucent. The garment looks like something a child would sleep in, but the shadow of her body underneath is clearly that of a woman.

I've lived my entire life, at least the parts I can remember, in this house. There is never a shortage of women, both guests and servants, but I'm certain I’ve never seen this woman before. An air of innocence clings to her that doesn’t exist anywhere else in this godforsaken place.

The innocent don't belong here. This is where monsters dwell. Here we don't hide in the shadows. If she's trying to escape, which would be wise, she's running the wrong way.

I throw my cigarette out the window, not caring if it lands on the slope of the roof below me. Let this mother fucking house burn to the ground. Nothing good lives inside these walls, myself included.

Climbing down from the roof isn't easy, but I've done it many times, so I move over the shingles with ease. I know where to step without causing tiles to loosen and slip off the aging structure. When I get to the edge, I hang on and let myself drop down to the next level. From there I dangle off the side again to wrap my legs around the post holding the eave over the porch. It's a lot of work to get down, but it beats moving through a crush of bodies. There always seems to be too many people inside.

Unlike my prey, I keep to the shadows. I don't want her to know I'm here, watching her. People react differently when they know they're being watched, and I want to see who she is without any pretense.

She leans against the rail of the gazebo, staring up at the stars as if there's an answer to a question written in the flickering balls of gas. Soundlessly, I move to stand in the shadow of a large oak tree, just feet from where she leans out to stargaze.

Under the moonlight. I study her features. Her dark hair falls to her waist in a tangled mass of waves and curls. Her nose is small and slightly upturned making her look like a wood nymph from Greek mythology. Her skin is pale and reflects the moonlight back into the night.

If I believed in angels, I'd think I was looking straight at one. She is everything good and pure that I stopped believing existed years ago. I want to break her, if for no other reason than because seeing her reminds me how far I've fallen.

I grab another cigarette from the pack inside the pocket of my hoodie and light it. It takes her a second to see the burning tip and smell the smoke, but when she does, she lets out the most satisfying gasp of surprise and fear. I can almost smell the acrid scent of it over the tobacco.

Now that she knows I'm here, I don't have to worry about being silent. Moving toward her, twigs snap under my boots and dry leaves crunch. "You shouldn't be here," I rasp in warning. She wraps her arms around her chest, probably trying to hide her tits under that flimsy excuse for clothes she's wearing.

"A little late for covering yourself up, sweetheart. I've already seen the goods while you were wishing on stars." I smirk at her, the corner of my mouth curving up in a way that usually turns girls on and pisses them off at the same time.

I blow out a stream of smoke and continue moving toward her. She responds, exactly as I want, with a step back. "Now, you're going to leave?"

"I thought I was alone," she whispers. Despite how quietly she speaks, I can hear how raspy and low her voice is. Judging by how she's wrinkling her nose, I'd guess she doesn't get it from smoking.

She turns to head back to the house.

"That's the wrong way, sweetheart," I call out to her.

She turns, hair and nightgown twirling around her. "And why is that?" She doesn't seem to be trying to be quiet any longer.

"A girl like you doesn't belong in Devil's Crossing, let alone that house. You're too pure for the debauchery I've seen go down inside. Find a different city, and forget this one exists."

"A girl like me? You make it sound like I'm a porcelain doll."

There's a pull toward her, and before I know it I'm standing right in front of her. "Fragile enough." I reach out and run my knuckles over her pale cheek.

"Well," she sighs, "then there's a problem, because I have to go back into that house. You see, I'm home from school for the first time in years, and that's my dad's house. Where else am I supposed to go?"

My hand falls like I touched a flame. In a way I did. If anyone knows I touched the princess of the manor I might as well eat a bullet.

"Your dad will kill whoever let you out of your room. You better get back up there."

She laughs without humor. "Do you know what it's like to be trapped?"

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