Pretty Little Psycho (Flash fiction)

I drag my fingers across my face, marking it in black sludge. My middle finger continues down my neck,
stopping above my cleavage. I rip apart the clasps on my dress, tearing the fabric. It was a beautiful
dress, pink and white ball gown. Now, its covered in black sludge. I don’t even know where this came
from. I look in the mirror in front of me. Oh yeah, it came from my hair. What was once an Auburn is
now deep black. Now to remember how it got there.

I’m stuck in a cellar. There's a locked door up a wooden staircase but it only opens so I can eat.
There's one small window with bars on it but I can only see grass from it. I’ve been here for years.
Punishment, my guardian said, for breaking and entering and robbery.

I notice feet in the grass. Looking out the window, I yell out to them. The person kneels down by the
window.

“Someone in there?” The voice is deep, but monotone.

I clear my throat, making sure my voice is as feminine as I can make it.

“Yes, I’ve been kidnapped and trapped down here. Please help me! The guy who kidnapped me has…”
I start crying and collapse to my knees.

“Ok, just hang on. I’ll help you.”

When he moves, I stop crying and wipe away the tears on my cheeks.

“Too easy.”

I hear yelling and stomping upstairs. I hear gunshots and the door swings open.

“Are you here, miss?”

An unfamiliar male storms down the stairs. He has a gun shoved in the waistband of his jeans. When
he sees me looking at it, he hides it with his shirt. Its baggy enough to hide it.

I stand in mock shock. I manage to get tears to fall down my cheeks again.

“It's ok, he won't hurt you again. Let's go, we shouldn't stay here.”

He drapes a coat around my shoulders, leading me up the stairs and out the front door. There's a body
covered with blood in the hall.

He brings me to what I assume is his house.

“You can borrow some of my wives old clothes. We were going to donate them anyway so I doubt she’ll
mind.”

As he digs through a bag, I look around the room. Its a small room, a fireplace sits by the wall unused.
There are pictures on the mantle, probably of him and his wife. The wallpaper seems torn in some
places, but the carpet seems perfectly clean.

He hands me some clothes and a towel. “You can use our shower. Upstairs, first door on the right.”

I bow slightly, respectfully, before going to the shower.

The sludge came out of my hair. I had to scrub the shower clean, though. It's been years since I’ve seen
my natural hair colour.

I dress in the clothes I’ve been given, denim shorts and a branded T-Shirt. I’ve never heard of this brand
before but the logo is a tick.

As I walk back downstairs, I curl my hands up in the hem of the shirt. It's been easier to fake emotions
recently. Casting my eyes downwards, I walk into the room I was in before.

“There you are. You look better without that black everywhere.”

I look up and the man is sitting on the couch, his gun on the side table next to him. I slowly step towards
it.

“Are you hungry? I’ll get some food for you.” He stands up and pats my head as he walks past. This
infuriates me.

I snatch the gun from the side table and hide it behind my back as he walks in with a plate of bread and
butter. I close the curtains, keeping the gun hidden.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

I turn back towards him, the gun trained on him. I pull the trigger and shoot him square in the chest. I
turn away as his body hits the ground. I wipe my fingerprints off the gun with chemicals I find in the
house and put the gun in his hand. His eyes find mine before the light leaves them. I don’t regret what I
did.

I take what money I can and what I think can sell for a good price (there's a lot of jewellery around that
looks expensive) and run from the house.

I never knew freedom would taste so good.