Confusion. She could see it in the girl's face. Discord. She could sense it in the air.
It was beautiful.
"How many times do I have to say this before it gets into your whore skull?" His voice was angry, masculine, aggressive. Quite foreign emotions to the being behind the face, but a necessary facade. "I. Don't. Love. You." As his words sunk in, the girl opposite him began to tremble. The hapless young woman grit her teeth, tried to be angry, tried to muster some kind of response... But she couldn't. She had always known that her lover would leave her eventually, realise how weak she was... How useless she was. "I'm sorry..." was all she could muster. Sorry that she hadn't been good enough. Sorry that she'd been such a drain on him.
"Sorry won't bring me the two wasted years of my life back." The boy muttered bitterly. "Not worth the average sex, I can tell you that." That stung. Thinking that he'd only been with her at all because... She was easy. She began to cry.
"Oh, I've had enough." The boy growled, standing sharply and storming from the room. As he left, his ears listened intently. And there he heard it, a satisfying reply. "Goodbye, David..." the girl murmured. He pretended not to hear, and made his way out onto the street.
As soon as the boy set foot on the pavement, his face changed. No longer was he a sweet-faced young man of eighteen, he had become an old woman of about fifty, nondescript. She took her time, and sat down on a park bench opposite the girl's apartment, producing a newspaper and pretending to read it with interest. The street was abandoned, save for a pair of friends that were in the process of strolling past. Perfect. They'd be gone just in time. Even as they turned a corner, and moved out of sight - the old woman looked from her paper to the roof of the apartment, twelve stories high.
The girl stood there, swaying on the edge like a candle in the wind. And now, all she needed was...
"Ella!" The boy's scream was loud, but not loud enough to reach her. He had just come onto the street, and after realising what was about to happen - he sprinted toward the apartment.
He was too late.
Before she had a chance to even notice him, she dipped forward, and fell with the grace of a martyr, smashing onto the pavement with a delicious thud that was audible to the old woman below. What made it all the sweeter was that Ella's lover had no doubt heard it too. He sprinted toward her body, looked unsure of what to do for a few moments - and then promptly turned away and vomited. Her work was done. She knew from experience that it would only be a matter of time before the heartbroken fool would join his lover in death. She cared not. The anguish on his face was all the reward she needed.
If her face was not buried in the newspaper, and the street was not so devoid of life - an onlooker might have sworn that the woman grew visibly younger before their eyes. Her grey hair turned to raven, her wrinkles became less pronounced. Her face altered itself slightly, becoming sterner - and sharper. Her eyes went from brown to grey.
The children at the school had been gossiping about a freak at New Grampus just that morning. Something about the room temperature dropping significantly. How very interesting. She would replace one of the teachers there, and observe this "freak" more closely. Besides, she had nothing else to entertain herself with at present. She often took the form of teachers. People in positions of authority who were easily trusted and could learn a deceptive amount about their students. Then she could select the perfect targets...
And welcome chaos.
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