Cand(y)ice

2

The sky was blue when I woke up. In fact, it was so blue that it tainted me the same color, with a melancholia so sweet I felt it no more. I slowly got up, feeling the sheets stick to my skin, as summer was coming. I had been influenced by the hot wave, yet deep down, I knew that in no way was the sweat merely from the rising weather.

Sitting up, I smiled, grabbing my notebook, which I had carefully placed on my bedside table for easy access. I used it to log my dreams, mostly to remember those I had of serial killers, those walking red flags I needed like my blood. I had started since I picked up on lucid dreaming, which was harder than expected. Spotting my pen, I started writing down the lasting memories of an everlasting fantasy, one I had, since I was a child.

"Today, I dreamt of him, him with his curly black hair and piercing gaze. The setting felt familiar, so it was probably my house. We were on the couch, and nobody was home, so it was just us. He seemed tired, anxious, even, and I was talking to relieve his stress. I asked him if he wanted to kiss me, and he did. It felt so real, I could feel his lips on mine, I could feel millions of butterflies in my chest, dancing and killing and dying and singing... and it felt like heaven, a heaven closer to hell. Once again, I wished I would not wake up."

I sighed, looking out of the window as I heard footsteps downstairs. Mara must have already gotten ready. She was far more organized than me, and straight hair took less time to comb and style. I sighed once again, staring into the mirror, realizing today was not only a Monday, but a bad hair day as well.

Cursing my genetics, I went through my wardrobe, putting on my stockings in a messy fashion. The school had an uniform, but I never saw it as more than an insult to good style and normal mental health. So, I had bought a dozen clothing pieces that had the same academic aesthetic, and though I had to show my badge a few more time each mornings, I didn't mind at all. If I was to become a felon, then I would do it in style, in the most classy way my crazy locks would permit.

"Let me guess, mom and dad already left for work?", I asked from the top of the staircase, looking down to my half sister. It was the only time I could look down to her, for everything about her was so... perfect. Her hair, of a black clearer than my skin, fell down her delicate back in a sheet of carefully brushed silk... her eyes, almond-shaped and condescending, charmed boys and men alike like sirens... yet her heart, in the same color as her nail polish, was black as ink. I knew the power she held, and so never in a million years would I make it known that I often fantasized about her murder. Especially if it was by the hand of my favorite serial killer... Then my parents would finally look at me...

"Mom is having a business trip. She is coming back in a week. Dad is at the company. He said to not wait for him for dinner.", Mara recited, readjusting her uniform. Though she had had the same one for years, it still looked too big on her, but then again, everything looked oversized compared to my sister. Maybe one of the reasons I didn't envy her as much as some, was because I knew that behind her perfect image was a spotlight too bright and a past so much darker. Perfection was out of reach, even for Mara de Lys. That thought kept me going.

"I'm leaving. Have a good day."

I nodded, skipping down the stairs, feeling my skin stick to my cheekbones as I had applied a thick layer of healing ointment. When, when would my eczema finally cease to torture my self esteem?

"I didn't know dessert was served in the morning, Candy. Never asked for strawberries dipped in cream.", a voice brought me out of my thoughts, as I smiled up at my half brother. Richard had the same color palette as his sister Mara, yet his eyes shone with a different light. It wasn't a light I wanted to catch, like hers, but one I wanted to land on me.