Instyle UK Shoot 2012

glassheart

she burns you like a candlewick.
she's a flame you can't put out.
a glass doll you can't hold.
your skin burns for her.
you're burning up.
she's tiny and darling, but god do you want her.
you want to tear her apart and make her yours.

that little graveyard girl.

mix about that darling girl from the eyes of the demon.

Spark

{ short }

Collinwood, 1775

Angelique pushed on the wood of the door, causing it to creek

lightly

. Her eyes flooded with light and stung for a moment. She set the silver tray on the small entry table as she entered the vast room. Her eyes glazed over from the intense sunlight. Thousands of books of all varieties lined the walls up to the ceiling, collecting dust that she was expected to get rid of. Couches faced each other in the middle of the room and a fireplace laid behind them on the wall nearest to her.

There was something quite... demeaning about books to her, yet intriguing at the same time.  She coveted the ability to read them and soak up all their knowledge as Barnabas did. But that was never allowed. She was a woman first of all, and they certainly weren't allowed an education. They were expected to stay home to cook, clean and bear children. That had never been what she wanted to do with her life, but she didn’t even have the opportunity to do that. For obvious reasons. Servants weren't allowed to do anything. They couldn't have an education, they couldn’t accomplish their dreams, they couldn’t act as they liked. Or so it was said.

The last thing she wanted to do was to be a servant. She had always hated her life, sometimes a little more than she should have. The idea of living that life peacefully and without question was hard for her to swallow. That your life was just a draw of the hat and you had no say in it. Some people, like Barnabas, had everything and more handed to them on a silver platter while she was a nothing more than a incapable mutt worth what a pig would swallow. The girl scowled at the mere thought of it.

The only way she could get what she wanted would be to cheat, and that was exactly what she had in mind. Deception was a trait most potent for her needs, and she delivered with dignity. In her mind, the only thing between where she was then and where she wanted to be was freedom. Which obviously doesn’t come very easily. But she didn’t need easy.

Angelique was indeed intelligent, even though she wasn’t educated. She learned from example, studying not from books, but from people. She did the best with what she was given, despite it being next to nothing. But she believed she could become everything that she wanted to in time. Angelique didn’t need an opportunity. All she needed was a spark. But she never knew it would be him.

Please tell me what you think by leaving a comment below! BTW, Merry Christmas everyone!

Breaking Point

Collinwood, 1776

Angelique looked into his eyes and sighed deeply. Again, that sensation fell over her. Everything was perfect. Her love for him outweighed everything else. That wonderful feeling of true love washed over her, something she had never felt except for with him. She loved him so much it almost hurt her. All that she wanted was for him to love her. She knew it could work. It had to. They would run away and be happy. Forever and ever. She was smiling at the man she loved with all her heart and soul. He smirked at her and his eyes twinkled like they always did. Even in the dim red light from the curtains in the study he was beautiful. He was beautiful all over. Especially his heart, which was what comforted her the most.

He had freed her. She didn’t think the way she used to. All she could think about was him. This hope comforted her she almost forgot about everything else in the world. Everyday she flew past her chores easily. Mainly because all she was thinking about was him. Even when Agatha had struck her for slacking off, she simply apologized and smiled at her; knowing that one day she wouldn’t have to put up with her anymore. She wouldn’t have to put up with anyone anymore. Simply the fact that everyday she snuck off to see a man who she was deeply in love with took the pain out of her life. Everyday when she went to bed she was smiling and thinking of him, not the horrible life she had. She loved it. Another wonderful thing he had taught her to do. Love. She could feel it now. It was clear. She loved him.

She briefly looked down at his attire and grinned as she ran her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. Barnabas wasn’t really smiling though. Angelique didn’t let this concern her, not that much could right now. She was so in love, she didn’t even notice many things now. But she intended on changing that tonight. Because tonight she was going to hear him say he loved her. She pressed her body against him and he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His body on hers reminded her of the night she gave herself to him. Her favorite memory now. Barnabas leaned down to kiss her deeply. She didn’t hold back a bit, melting into him once again. Her fingers grasped his neck and pulled him even tighter if that was possible. Their tongues danced flawlessly and she changed the angle to reach new places inside him.

Angelique broke away from him and confessed her love love for him once again, barely thinking about it now; or the fact that she had said it in french. She couldn't hold in the question she had been begging to know for weeks now. She trailed her hands down his neck as he remained silent. She pleaded breathlessly,

“Let me hear you say ‘I love you Angelique”, she took a breath and stared straight into his eyes, “I want you”. She leaned back from his firm embrace and waited in fear to hear what she wanted most. For a second she froze, wondering what would happen if he didn’t love her. All of her dreams of them would have no meaning.

No, he loves me.

He didn’t speak as soon as she expected, just moved his hands from her waist to her arms when she lowered them from his face. But she had to understand that must be hard for men confess their love. Especially to a servant. So she tipped back a bit more and studied his face in anticipation. But what she saw she didn’t like. At all. His face was pained and full of regret. Angelique’s breath hitched when he answered her,

“Angelique”, he breathed, regret coating his previously calm aura; her lip quivered in fear of his words. “I’m sorry my dear, but you would be hearing a lie.”

His words sounded like shattering glass in her ears. The words she had feared and resisted her whole life.There isn’t really a way to describe her feelings in words. She almost felt like she could just keel over and die right there from the intensity of them. She was engulfed as the everything she used to bear every day washed over her in a life-changing moment.

Hatred. Sorrow. Pain. Anger.

It all came back to her. Angelique pushed away from him and walked backwards. Unable to speak. He was just one of them too. The dream crushers. He used her. Barnabas didn’t love her. He wasn’t going to save her. He was throwing her back into the water like every other damn person in her life had. She was drowning. She could feel those wonderful feelings drain out of her. She wanted to slap him, break down in tears and scream all at the same time. He had ruined it. Her perfect dreams. Their beautiful future. Everything.

All of it: lies. Every smile, every so-thought heartfelt chuckle was nothing more than a corruptive plan to ruin her. To play with her like a child with a toy; using and taking what he wanted. It was crystal clear, much more than ever before. Before she had seen a fogged glass filled with misententions. His plan was to let himself lust over her and when he felt he was done; toss her aside, no longer of use. The eyes she used to conceive as full of a passionate love for her was nothing more than another sin. All he felt towards her was lust. Their friendship, undeclared understanding of each other was just another damn lie. A con, a trick to lure her in and perceive his every move as an act of love when it was only evil.

Her head pounded, her heart beating madly as she stared at him. She sunk her eyes into his brown ones, no longer feeling love; but feeling pain and anguish. He didn’t look sorry. She saw no pity in his eyes, only the faces she had been looked at by before. So seemingly powerful and important, treating her as you would a doll. That was just it wasn’t it. No one thought she could fight back. She was the powerless, worthless only half-decent french help that no one wanted, and no one cared about. Her face contorted into a mask of hatred as her lips curled into a unforgiving snarl. Angelique’s teeth clenched so tightly her jaw could have broken. Her ice blue eyes became rays of hate and she glared at him with all her will, silently willing the devil himself to make him pay for what he’d done.

Now there was nothing left. No lingering soul keeping her on the edge of hope. That string had been cut, that line had been crossed. Now she had no desire of fighting the waves that pounded into her soul. She let them take her. Drown her down into the abyss which she had only felt glimpses of. Only tasted before, engulfed in now. There was no more innocent souls on the shore, no faces that begged for forgiveness. Only the faces of haters and liars. The faces of evil. Their cackling laughter and disgusted sneers only one effect on her now. Not to walk away, not to grin and bear it, and not to turn the other cheek. Her directive was to give them what they deserved. Destroy their petty little lives filled with the acts of evil.

Why should she not? What did she care about anymore? Nothing. The lines of vengeance and revenge were blurred and unclear. But honestly, she gave no thought to the notion of restricting the feelings inside her. For once in their perfect lives they would feel devastation and destruction.

Angelique studied his frame for a moment. He was never a very readable person; usually able to control his emotions from showing on his features. Hiding them, masking them. Making her perceive them as wanted. But now he seemed as if he was a combination of fear, shame and an effort to overpower her. He always did like to be on top. To control everything while remaining untouched. Unhurt by others. But then again, so did everyone else. But he’ll remain untouched no longer. She gave him no outward signs of a plot to make him suffer other than an ice cold stare and a face of pure determination. She knew better than to scream, or cry, or hurt him now. Hell, she wasn’t going to let this fall apart. This was one thing she only needed herself to accomplish. She kept herself from showing any signs of being a witch, nothing that could potentially have her caught. She did nothing that could get her in trouble with the household. Nothing that he could possibly blame her for except to be hurt by his own actions. By immediate regret and the sting of vengeance. Only what would be a little taste of what was to come.

Maybe she’d give him a little hint. A glimpse into what she could do. Nothing too obvious or assertive. Just a peek into what she really was. Of what she could do. Besides, even if he told someone they would only think him mad; not to mention he would have to explain that he had spurned her. Which of course, he would never do, as his precious honor wouldn’t allow that. She stepped backwards and quickly turned the corner, sending the heavy red curtains flying behind her; blowing out the dim candle illuminating the room. His pale face darkened, extended arms paralyzed from before. Since a normal human could never have done that with such little effort, he should get the hint that she’s not all that powerless. She’s more powerful than anyone else. She stronger. She’s smarter. And most importantly, they’ll never see it coming. It’s about time they come to feel her pain. All of them.

She prowled the halls of the manor that had once been her home. The sound of laughter, crying and screaming all took place here. But there was a much different aura to the house as she stalked the darkened passageways. The moonlight flickered in through the open windows; not creating a peaceful feeling, but a menacing one. Her eyes narrowed as she rounded another corner with strong but weightless steps. She had a new initiative now. A much... darker one.

It’s my turn.

“If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?”- William Shakespeare

What did you think? Please leave a comment down below and follow my blog! Also, read my book on fan fiction.net (link in the sidebar).

What Now?

“I found the one, he changed my life

But was it me that changed

And he just happened to come at the right time

I'm supposed to be in love

But I'm numb again

Whatever it is, it feels like

It's laughing at me through the glass of a two-sided mirror

Whatever it is, it's just sitting there laughing at me

And I just wanna scream

What now?”

- Rihanna

Angelique leaning against the side of the counter, a drink in her hand. She seemed uninterested as Barnabas approached the bar, Victoria following closely behind him like a lost dog. She obviously had never been to a bar before, judging by her expression as she walked through the hoards of men with beer in their grasp and eyes locked on her thin figure. Angelique licked her lips tentatively and lit a cigarette. She made means not to look at them. Several pieces of hair fell in front of her dark eyes, but she did not remove them. 
“You two look more than a little bit out of place, don’t you think?” Angelique questioned dryly as they neared her. She took a sip of her bourbon and let her head fall to face him ungracefully. Barnabas said nothing for a moment and studied her. Angelique slowly tore her gaze from him and rested back against the counter with an elbow. 
“You’re drunk.”
Angie looked up at him, unshaken. She pinched her fingers together, as if to say just a little bit. But her drunken stupor didn’t help to prove her previous statement. He looked over her, his gaze resting on her curves a bit longer than he usually would let himself. 
“And you’re an asshole, get out.” Her words were final, but remarkably familiar to him given her reestablished french drawl. Barnabas scowled at her remark, keeping Victoria safely behind him. Vicky gasped and mimicked Barnabas’ expression, but in a slightly more childlike way.
“Relax Barney. I’m not going to hurt your little lapdog.” Her words and actions were slurred, but somehow definite. She was even determined when she was intoxicated.