Izabelle Oliver walked down the main road of New Orleans with multiple bags in her left hand, as she normally would on a Friday night. The new high school graduate wandered the streets of her beloved city sparkling under the stars. People walked from one shop to another or watched the street performers and their enchanting music. The city was so alive, but she knew moments like this wouldn’t last forever. The summer was long-lived, but coming to an end. She would be heading off to college to become a surgeon, though her family would rather have her work for them like her brother and sister. Izabelle grew up in a wealthy family with her two older siblings: Cameron and Caitlin. Her brother Cameron was 25, while Caitlin was 23. She always wanted to help the good people of the world and maybe, one day, become one of those good people.
She savored the moments of peace within her city. Turning to her right she spotted her favorite book store and made her way to it. Upon arriving she pushed open the glass doors. There weren’t very many people there, but there never really were. When walking around she already seemed to have two books in her hand. Making her way to the opposite side of the store she spotted a familiar figure, with ash brown hair falling to her shoulders.
Izabelle swiftly and quietly made her way to her best friend Alice Evans. The highlights in her hair seemed to glow in the shop's light. “You look like you’re having fun,” Izabelle purred in her friend’s ear. Alice jumped. Her magnificent amber eyes meet hers.
“How dare you scare me!”
Izabelle burst out laughing and retorted with, “Oh you’ll be fine.” She began smirking, “ I had to get into the mood for spooky season somehow.” Alice scowled. Walking up to her side she scanned the shelf. Izabelle’s smile grew, almost touching her eyes. “So this is your guilty pleasure,” Alice’s face turned a deep shade of red.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alice said while pushing her away.
She had spent a good amount of money there as she normally would. They bid their farewells and she made her way home. Walking down the moon kissed road she could’ve sworn someone was watching her, though she shrugged it off as nothing as she normally would when she got that feeling. She was tired. That was what she told herself as she had many times before.
She didn’t want to go home, though this was normal for her. But she still did it every Friday, went out and had fun. Felt free. What awaited her at home was the same thing that had happened for the past nine years. Before she knew it the large oak doors were in front of her, and she sealed that day's fate by opening those doors.
The beating that came from her father was fast knocking her on the bridge of consciousness to let her get to her room without the help of others. The moment her body hit that mattress everything went dark, and all she could hear were murmurs. As the year of her life went on they grew louder and louder, she didn’t know how much of it she could take anymore before telling someone.
The next day she awoke with a throbbing headache, made her way to the bathroom and puked her guts out. Afterward, she took a shower, running her fingers through her newly dyed rose gold hair. When she was done she looked in the mirror to see the damage. As those gray eyes stared back at her, she picked up some of her cosmetics and applied them. She winced as she finished, got dressed, and made her way downstairs. Trying her best not to limp, she made it there using the little remaining pride she had and ate the leftover food her family had left.
Oh, the horrible things that went through her mind! All the ways she wanted to hurt them. It brought a smile to her lips as she made her way down the hall. “What are you smiling about,” snarled Caitlin a few feet away. But Izabelle said nothing. Caitlin’s lover Blake was beside her the same distaste on his face as her sister’s. Oh, the thought of their blood on her skin made her beam, as she tried to walk past the two in front of her. Before she could react Caitlin grabbed a handful of her hair and threw her into the wall. Blake chuckled and Caitlin smirked, while a sharp pain went through Izabelle’s head. One day she promised herself. One day the roles will be reversed. The thoughts of which she told herself were not her own continued throughout the day. Even as the two walked away satisfied, the thought of their blood staining the carpet brought another smile to her face.
Not much had happened for the rest of the day. Though it took her a few minutes to recompose herself after the unpleasant meeting with her sister, she got up and made her way back to her room. She was alone. No one, not even the servants came to her aid, but how could they? If they wanted to keep their jobs they had to keep their hands and words to themselves. She put a hand to her head and sent a shot of pain through her. Removing her hand and looking at it she was a deep crimson covering it. There was a lot, but not enough for severe damage. She went to her room, cleaned it up, and waited. Waited for the sun to set.
Her body did not feel entirely her own when the sun finished its descent. She moved like a shadow, unwillingly being pulled to the kitchen. No one was there, but that was to be expected at this time of night. Stocking with lethal silence she grabbed the sharpest knife she could find and moved to the stairs.
Unable for anyone to hear her footfalls, she crept towards her parent's bedroom. She opened the door and a wide smile grew on her face as she moved the blade in between her fingers. Then she was standing at the side of the bed, staring at the two bodies lying soundlessly on the mattress. A heartbeat later she moved the blade and made a deep cut on her father's neck that reached from one ear to another. Then she did the same to her mother.
She was covered in blood by the end of the night. Five bodies lying in their beds soulless and covered in a liquid crimson. Izabelle was already back in her room. Cleaning up and packing light as she lept out the window.
Her new career brought more joy to her than one person, object or occupation ever could.