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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Avenged Sevenfold >> Beautiful Lies

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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When The Night Falls Down Around Me
By SteffiSevenfold

 


Bring them back screaming, my mind replays the words over and over again.

I don't want to brig them back, let alone screaming.

I sigh and take off down the steers, hiding in every shadow possible.

Only one am. People are still roaming the world.

Stepping up to her window, I peek in through it.

The blinds are closed, but I can peek past it.

Every light is off.

No television on.

I run my scalpel like nail down the window.

It cracks noisily and I make a crack parallel to the first one.

Making a square, I pop the glass out.

It falls but doesn't break.

I reach my fleshy hand through the window and go to unlock it, only to find it already unlocked.

I look around sheepishly and tug the window open.

I reach my knee up to the window and my muscles stretch.

I groan in annoyance and tug myself through the window.

Not having paid enough attention to my surroundings, I fall half a foot and land on a countertop.

I thank god that there wasn't anything on it.

Cool air from the AC blasts against my exposed organs, my bones. It's only kind of irritating.

Sheepishly, I scoot off the counter and jump to the floor, my heel clicking against the linoleum floor.

Walking around, I reach out to small knick knacks and artifacts, but don't touch any.

After making my way up the stairs, I peek into every room.

One's a master bedroom, the king sized bed made nicely.

I figure her parents are out and continue my journey.

Peeking into another room, I look around.

Bathroom.

Then comes the next room.

I push the door open and sigh in relief when it doesn't creek or screech.

There she is, a thin bed sheet pulled up to her chin.

Beautiful Frankie.

Why didn't I go after Haylie?

Because she smells so perfect.

When she finds out her precious Frankie has disappeared, then she'll come crying to me.

I can hold her. Protect her. Eat her.

How did I get her address?

Let's just say the school doesn't hold their students private information well.

I make my way across her carpeted floor soundlessly, not needing to breathe so not doing so.

Staring at her, I admire her beauty and sigh at the fact that this pretty face is going to waste.

I kneel on her bed, the mattress sinking the slightest bit at my weight.

The springs groan.

She rolls over.

My fingers fiddle with the thin sheet, pulling it from her legs.

She wears night shorts, rolled around the middle.

Pulling the sheets slowly from her torso, I drop it to my torn lap.

She shifts around, almost waking up.

I look up gratefully when she doesn't, wishing I had my lids to close out this mess.

I fold the thin sheet into a long, thick strip.

She lays on her back now. I drop the thickened sheet across her face and she gasps, obviously awaken by the sudden weight on her face, the lack of fresh air.

She half jolts up before I grab the sheet and tie it around the back of her head.

Her screams aren't muffled by the sheet one bit.

I sigh and wrap an arm around her waist, my tendons sticking out for the taking.

I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder.

She yelps and feels around my back.

I can feel her finger probing my roped muscle and when she goes to poke once more, her fingers dip into a vein torn hole.

She screams loudly and I'm surprised the cops haven't been called yet.

Frankie reaches behind her head to untie the sheet, but I toss her back into the bed and grab her wrists.

I pull her and she falls onto the floor so I drag her across the carpet.

Her feet kick and her mouth screams, but it doesn't really matter.

I'd get fucking shit if I didn't bring her back.

She's screaming profanity now, yells of, “Fuck you motherfucker!” and, “What the fuck are you!?”

I pick her up again, this time bridal style.

Her wrists stay locked in my grasp.

She's kicking and screaming and I'm tempted to tear her spine out.

I walk down her stairs and toss the front door open.

I drop her to the concrete and drag her again, her wrists in my grasp.

She's screaming louder now, half in fear and half in pain as the concrete scrapes her back.

One thirty. Her screams are drawing the few people from the streets to stare into the shadows.

Two people saw me, both of them homeless or at least looking homeless.

I knew I'd have to kill them.

I lean down and press my hand to her mouth.

I pick her up by her mouth and tug her to my torso, walking along to she can't really scream.

She sputters and I know she can't breathe correctly.

I sigh and pull my hand from her mouth.

She continues to scream, so I think, fuck it. The more see, the more I have to eat.

And finally we're here.

The sheet around her face is soaked with tears and her white night shirt is splattered red in the back from when the concrete ate at her skin.

I drop her to the ground again. She screams and whimpers and I almost feel bad.

I really would feel bad, but I've grown up to know better than feel anything for your victims.

Ronnie walks up with his posse hot on his heels.

He sniffs around Frankie and smiles a faux genuine smile.

I grunt in response and he tugs the sheet from her face.

One look up at us and she shuts up.

Her eyes go wide and they water up again, spilling salty water down her face faster than I've ever seen.

He closes his eyes and inhales, tilting his head to the sky.

“She smells very nice. Maybe even better than that fucker.”

He doesn't need to point or nod for me to know who he's talking about.

My eyes flicker to the left.

Johnny.

Or his remains, at least.

His face is gone, pretty pale skin erased.

The front of his skull is crushed in, making an oval shaped hole.

Hair remains on his head, though not as much as before.

An arm is missing, grotesque flesh hanging from it.

The other arm is nothing but bone and a few scraps of meat.

Frankie's eyes look to where mine were held.

They widen more though I thought that was impossible.

At first glance at us, I'm sure she knew exactly what we are, even if she didn't believe any of it way real.

One glance at Johnny and the poor girl knew her only fate.

She turns to me with quivering lips. She sits on her knees and tears run forcefully down her cheeks, dripping off her defined chin.

Her hair is everywhere and some sticks to her face with sweat and tears.

Her eyes plead at me and she cringes back at my appearance.

“Please, please, please, please, please don't do this. Just…just let me go please, please.”

I stared at her, my eyes emotionless. A hint of recognition sparks through hers.

Ronnie bends down and brushes her hair behind her ear with a bony hand.

She gasps and shakes, but doesn't dare move.

His teeth just barely graze her shoulder, but the skin splits in a perfect line.

“Are you afraid?”

His whisper is sweet, calming.

She bites her bottom lip roughly to keep a scream in, but her shakes and quivers answer his question with a definite yes.

His tongue flicks across her ear lobe and Frankie yelps.

She turns to Ronnie, finally realizing that she's the product of this deadly trade.

I turn on my fleshless heel and walk away, her pleas of agony my only lullaby.

My stomach growls.

I need to find those two hobos.

- - - - - - - -

Six in the morning.

My skin grew back, my bones found their places and my hair sprouted new.

I grunt at the tenderness of my new skin and stare into the mirror at my lips.

I hold one of the rings and force it through my new skin, causing it to tear through.

I press the back of it into place and do the same with the other side.

Blood leaks around the two hoops and I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, licking at the blood.

My fingers then run down my chest piece and I flinch.

I hate how much more everything hurts as a person.

It feels as if I just got this tattoo on my chest again.

I cup my hand over my mouth and exhale before inhaling the scent.

It smells good. Not my best scent, but I've done worse.

It smells manly. Musky and a smell slightly like sage.

I smirk to my reflection.

Yeah. It's gonna be a good day.

- - - - - - -

This chapter = fail.

I actually felt really bad while writing it.

I'm sorry for killing off one of the best authors on this site.

I just….couldn't help myself. :c

And hey!

*puts hands up in surrender*

I didn't kill Johnny, y'all.

. . . . . Zacky did. *runs away*

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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