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Clandestine Meetings ✷Chapter Eight
What is angel-like? Is it damp sheets dancing with the wind on your laundry line? Eyes that were dark and brought on stability, reliability, and warmth? The tender feel of your hands on hers? You catch a glimpse of her angel-bright grin and you couldn't help but want more. The definition of angelic is her.
Kitty Lovelace was a goddess. She was the moment that you admired for too long, gaze glistening, mouth gaping, wondering how on earth could picturesque.
She greeted people with a smile, pink lips tucked under her ivory sharp teeth. She was the girl with batting doe eyes, the kind of eyes that get you free drinks, the type of eyes you get lost in. She was the crimson lipstick that smudged at the top of a cigarette. The naked girl tangled in your sheets after a blackout drunk hookup, where you can't remember a thing but fuck, you wished you knew what it felt to caress her honey skin. She was lust, love and hatred all mixed into a bottle as one, chugged down in seconds into the bottomless pit of a teenage-man whore's stomach.
Maybe that was why Teddy Bennet was so jealous of her.
All her life growing up, Teddy Bennet was nothing but a snake. A fucking bitch even, as some of the Stars Hollow residents would say. Besides the many misleading grotesque rumors the town spreads about her in audible whispers to make her ashamed, truth be told she cherishes hearing the absurd talks and absolutely adores proving their prejudice right.
To taste a little bit of the so-called heavenly Stars Hollow, Teddy had to shed and tear apart her skin from her body with her bare hands in sweet depravity and grotesque massacre. Instead of coloring her nails, she pierced her fingers through flesh and petite soft skin and carved her teeth into fangs when she was barely thirteen. The tartar melted on her tongue like children's sugar, and it tasted as foul as loose concrete, like a rock that broke between her teeth like candy.
She cherished it. The absolute repulsion of her depravity and monstrosity.
She seethed, and she got bitter. Almost too bitter for a taste of a teenager of seventeen, but it's always been there. The depravity became her second nature easily when growing up with her pitiful pathetic Mother and the sorrowful, drunken men she brought only to throw terror and horror on her. And she never just found it in herself to suppress the anger. It's always been there, in the deepest rotten pits of her strange nature.
But though nature won Teddy way too easily, she hated how she felt when boys caught the eyes of her best friend. Kitty was a drug. Teddy was a serpent. Kitty was the girl that suffocated you as she drove by, skin glistening and trapping you in her aura of a sun-kissed girl in a too-big world. Teddy was a mistake. Look at her all you want but whatever you do, do not touch. Girls like her belong in the museum of the things that you most want to forget.
