Camarilla The story of a killer

Chapter one

Camarilla opened her uncomfortably heavy eyes. She immediately looked up at her ceiling and smiled a small, amused smile. Carved into the ceiling were the words It Gets Better . Two years ago she carved those semi-inspirational words there as a pathetic form of self medication into the ceiling.The idea was that whenever she awoke to the all too familiar feeling of approaching depression she would look up at those words and all would be well. It usually worked but there were times when even those words that she desperately wanted to believe couldn't save her. Letting out an unsatisfied sigh, Camarilla leaned up in her bed, lifted her arms in the air and stretched. Letting her arms fall at her sides, she stood up and looked around. Walking into her bathroom,she looked at herself in the full length mirror against the wall and sighed. She had dark brown hair that came down slightly pass her shoulders and the brightest blue eyes that anybody fortunate enough to see for more than a couple seconds claimed to have ever seen. Her skin was pale and soft, she often found herself running her fingers gently over her arms and stomach just out of pure fascination. Despite being admired by the majority of those who saw her, Camarilla couldn't help but feel that she had many flaws.The worst of which being that even tho she was very skinny she hated the inescapable fact that she had small breasts. Despite her mother's complaints about her insecurities, she made a habit of covering her body the best she could, always wearing long sleeves,hoodies and pants. After brushing her teeth she came out of the bathroom and got dressed,putting on skinny jeans and a loose fitting black long sleeve.Sitting on her bed,Camarilla eagerly reached under the bed and pulled out an old shoe box.Placing the box in her lap, she quickly opened it admiring the secrets hidden within.Inside were three photographs stacked on top of one another.Picking the first one up,Camarilla studied it, savoring the memories that consumed her.In the picture was a seventeen year old boy."Oh how I truly miss you" Camarilla purred."A girl never forgets her first. Especially one as handsome as you."The boy in the picture and camarilla's sweetest memories had short light brown hair, a muscular build,and a scar on his chin. Camarilla had always liked that picture.She had gotten it from the internet.She had considered asking him to let her take one but she could not do that.He hadn't even gotten to meet her yet but when they did about six month ago it was truly something special.Taped to the picture was a small piece of a shirt.As if in a trance Camarilla lifted the souvenir of her first time to her face and sniffed it.Placing the picture back in its resting place, she then picked up another one and examined it.This one was of a nineteen year old with long blond hair, dark blue eyes that she was fascinated with, and a skinny body.This picture also had a torn piece of shirt on it.Running her fingers over it, she smiled before placing it in the box.She had met him about three months ago.She bit her lip just thinking about it.She then picked up the final picture.She was especially excited by this one.Her body was shaking uncontrollably just by the innocent action of looking at the picture.In the picture was a man much older than her others.He was thirty two, with brown fading hair,a slightly muscular build,and a smile that was as wide as it was charming.Placing the picture back with the others,Camarilla smiled.This one was different.The man in it was older and more charming but there was one more thing different about it.There wasn't a torn piece of shirt on it. Yet.