Poetic Letters

Freak

Freak

Roseanne

So. This is not how I pictured Prince Charming.

Oh no. The person who just kicked in the door of my house is more like the Queen of Death. This Prince Charming is in fact a woman. Or a mysterious woman who lived in a tower of a dark forest. Her dark hair was shoulder-length that looked artfully disheveled, they were tucked behind her ears giving the world a perfect view of the scar on her right cheek. She was strong and fit. Dangerous. Deadly. Her fists curled and shaking. Her eyelids are hooded, but the twin slivers of glittering dark pools that zero in on me start my knees knocking. She was rough around the edges. She was beautiful.

My brother and his current girlfriend dove behind the couch when the Queen of Death entered the house by incredible force, but I froze. The closest hiding place is the laundry room behind me, but it's too late. She's seen me. And I doubt there's a lock on the planet that could keep this person out.

What does she want?

Very aware that I'm the center of the woman's intense focus, I cut my gaze toward Samuel, my brother. As he peeks over the top of the couch, recognition dawns in his expression, and now I'm really scared. They sent an assassin to get him. This isn't just some random robbery; this is yet another person my brother has screwed over. When is he going to learn?

Judging the situation, he might not get the chance. Because we're all about to be savagely murdered by woman who usually only exists inside nightmares. How unfair is that when I just graduated high school last month? I've recently been made a manager at the frozen yogurt shop, guaranteeing I'll be able to pay for community college classes come fall. My life has barely begun, and now I'm going to be eaten alive.

Figures.

"Are you going to stand up and face me like a man?" The woman shouts the question at my brother, but she's still staring at me. "Or leave this girl to fight your battles?"

Samuel winces, looking to his girlfriend for guidance. She shakes her head and motions for my brother to stay down behind the couch, earning a scowl from me. Oh, real nice. Shows up whenever she pleases, runs up the water bill and eats the food I buy, but now that I'm fixing to get slaughtered, I'm no longer useful.

Resigned to an early death, I figure I might as well go out with some dignity.

"Are you going to pay to fix that door or what?" My voice is shaking, so I lift my chin to compensate, trying my best not to look at the weapons strapped on her pants. "Our security deposit on this place probably could have covered some cheap funeral expenses. Now the landlord is going to keep the whole darn thing to cover the damage you did."

Queen of Death's head tilts so slowly, I swear I hear her neck joints groan. "You're so sure I'm going to kill you?"

"Well I don't think you're here to make me a sandwich."

Is it my imagination or does the corner of her mouth twitch? "I don't kill women." She grunts and rests a hand on the broken jamb. Apparently, this is going to be a casual triple murder. "Speaking of which, why are you dressed like a guy?"

Is she trying to make me drop my guard? Seems like a futile exercise since she could probably snap my neck like a twig. Glancing down at my navy-blue Dickies work pants and hoodie, I shrug, wishing the ball cap hiding my long, blonde hair was pulled lower so she couldn't see my self-consciousness. "It's easier when men come into the shop. They don't look as much."

Oh Lord. Her frown is so thunderous, my knees start knocking again. In a swift movement, she kicks off a chunk of the doorframe, forcing me to trap a scream in my throat. "What. Shop."