FicWad

I know, this is a short horror. Or not even a horror. I guess it could be considered horror, or even a backstory with a shock. My apologies for it being total shit, but I just wanted to write late at night. Tell me if it did scare you, or just kinda let you sit there. I'm shit at stories.

I craved the attention, the limelight, the fame. I lived for the fans, the masses, the money. I lived for the money. That was all I needed in life to be happy. For a little while, at least. If I didn't have the money, bad things would happen to me. Things and mere sights to turn the average human brain unstable.

I just thank god I'm not human.

Not without the money.

I used to have a friend, a very good one at that. Her name happened to be Violet, the name of her favorite flower. Violet was nine, a year younger than I. I was ten. I didn't know better. The need for fame wasn't that great yet, it wasn't driving me insane, but I did need the fame, the attention, the money badly. I didn't need rehab then. It was all dismissed as 'cute'.

Violet was a little girl, meek and shy. Her golden eyes shone behind the camera, and absolutely twinkled off camera. I was ten, and I knew I loved her. I loved her more than the fame, the attention, the money. My mind didn't get this, though. It only ran on fame, attention, money.

I was always classified as the younger one, the one who followed Violet like a lost puppy, begging for redemption.

Redemption is only a phase.

She and I lived in the same area. I found it wonderful; she found it shocking. Like she could catch my addiction by being around me. We were still friends, still very close friends... Until that night.

I hadn't gone to the store that day, something I always looked forward to. Going to the store enabled me to flaunt my wealth, recieve my attention, give my fame, all in one short trip to the supermarket. I could feel my inner self growing inside me, bit by bit.

Struggling is harder when you lost the will to fight.

Violet and I had a dinner with our families that night, at Violet's small 6-bedroom home. I had dressed up in my everyday clothes, despite my inner self nagging me to wear a suit, a dress, anything to gain the smallest portion of attention. I resisted that time, walking out of my home to the awaiting Volkswagon. I didn't want to make a scene, and the suit would only make me paler than I was.

Violet had decided to dress plainly too, a simple white dress with a blue satin sash. My inner self was kicking and screaming, begging for fame, attention, money. It was craving so bad I had gotten a small headache. I could feel the tiny horns I get when I go without the fame, the attention, the money sprouting up on my head, but I didn't care. Violet was sure to understand.

Understanding only comes to the appealing.

Throughout the dinner, I could feel myself growing sick with need. My inner self was growling, threatening to do something bad to those I loved if I didn't recieve attention. I resisted again, growing deathly tired as I forced my horns back down.

After dinner was adult time, time where I wouldn't recieve the fame, the attention, the money I needed in order to simply think straight. Violet and I were sent upstairs, where Violet would send me off to do something, anything, so as not to catch what I had.

The inner demon can't be spread nor caught.

The horns on my head were almost noticable to the human eye. Violet was oblivious, paying no attention to me. I could feel myself going mad, feel my tail beginning to sprout. Violet shut me out of her room.

Murder is permanent.

I felt my inner self, my inner demon come alive inside me. My horns were perceptable to the blind by now, my tail out of my jeans and flicking dangerously. My body grew lean with undectable muscle, my senses heightened.

The kill is the best part.

I wrapped my hand around her doorknob, breathing invisible fire that melted the lock with my touch. The door opened revealing an empty room and a closed bathroon door. I felt my inner demon smirk, my tail flicking silently as I walked to the bathroom door.

The innocent last the longest.

The door opened with a simple gaze, my eyes alone able to murder. Violet was in the bathroom, brushing her hair by the mirror that faced me. The inner demon that I had become was invisible in the glass. I felt my body temperature rise as I stepped towards Violet silently.

If life is but a joke...

I caught Violet by the hair and pulled her out of the bathroom, my tail batting her face and causing marks. She didn't scream; she was used to this. That didn't stop her from being surprised. I watched my nails grow long and jagged, Violet beginning to whimper at the sight. My demon smirked and ran my fingers over Violet's face, stroking lightly. My fingers pressed down, drawing blood. My tail wrapped around Violet's face before she opened her mouth to scream, stifling her airflow and cries out. My fingernail's sharpened at the sight of Violet's blood, pressing into her neck. The blood came out faster here, staining her dress red and causing Violet to thrash. My tail's grip tightened, causing Violet's body to still. I knew she wasn't dead. She was still breathing.

... then why are we laughing?

Violet's breathing subsided when my fist collided with her chest, ripping through her ribcage. The blood poured out as her heart stopped beating in my hand.

Attention causes the mind to numb.

My tail faded away, as did my horns and my muscles. Violet was dead. My inner demon had murdered her. Nobody would believe me.

That should have been enough fame, attention, money for years.

Insanity consumes all, unsatiable.