Seven

Saturday

Saturday

The first day that Annabelle Tomeko came back to earth was a very peculiar day for herself and a few other people. Like at the Funeral home, for example. She hadn't been buried yet and when she pushed her way out of that coffin she must of killed about three people from shock. Of course - they only fainted. She had to hurry out of there before someone called the police, or the newspapers started headlining the idea of zombies.

There was police tape on her apartment door, it was bright yellow reading POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. This was not the brutal crime scene of where she died only a day or two ago (and honestly, she wasn't sure how long ago it had been, or even the date she'd committed on), this was just her apartment. No blood stains or torn limbs laying on the sofa. She took some clothes, her wallet, and ripped a piece of lined paper out of a small notebook on the coffee table.

Why a lined piece of paper, you might ask. Annabelle knew what she had to do, and what better way to start than making a list of her targets. She pulled out a black pen from the drawer beside the fridge and started to write.

Veronica Pink

Andrew Amble

Melton Shell

Johnathon Phillips

Naomi Peyton

Mark Shiazitski

Annabelle Tomeko

Yes, she herself was on this list. That was because she had to go back, back to the voice and the brightness. She wasn't sure what actually went on there, or where there was, but she wanted to go back. She remembered clearly the voice saying 'Seven'. It had been repeating in her head since she woke up in that dark coffin. Seven. She liked it. The way the voice said it to her in her head. Soothing. That's when she decided to call herself Seven, since Annabelle Tomeko was actually dead. She felt like a new person, no anxieties racked her brain like they used to. She scratched out Annabelle Tomeko from her list, and instead she wrote:

Seven

It was nearly noon when she left the apartment with her laptop and a bag of necessities. She sat at an internet cafe with her laptop open, sipping a cup of tea behind some large sunglasses she picked up. She assumed all her family and friends, even though those numbers were few, knew she was dead. If they were to see her up and running at a cafe, who knows what they would think. She purposely choose a cafe far from where she used to live, and far from anyone she knew. After all, Los Angeles was a big city.

It was time for Seven to research some of the people she was going to kill. She knew these people some time or another, maybe even idolized them. She was a very naive child. Now, everything was new. Even the tea she sipped tasted different. Perhaps she was a new person. Maybe that voice had changed her.

The first on her list, who was going to be known as Pride in the near future, was Veronica Pink. She was maybe ten years older than Seven. A fashion designer and a model. Ever since Annabelle was young, she wanted to be as beautiful and talented as Veronica. When she turned seventeen she even tried out for a modelling job under her. She was shot down and thrown in the mud, told she wasn't good enough by Veronica herself. Veronica told her that Annabelle would never be as good as she was, she wasn't talented or beautiful like she was. This, of course, affected Annabelle at such a young age. But, surprisingly, that's not the worst thing Veronica did to her.

Annabelle didn't try out for the modelling business by herself, she brought her best friend along. Her name was Sam. She was the only person she'd really been close to. Sam was told the same as Annabelle, that she wasn't skinny enough or pretty enough, and the list went on. She took this to heart, she was determined to be like Veronica. She starved herself to death at the age of seventeen because she wanted to be skinny. She wore ten pounds of makeup and slept with older men because she thought it would make her good enough. Sam was the most amazing person Annabelle had ever met, and maybe besides her own mother, the most influential.