Prologue

Clack! Clack! clack!

My footsteps echoed on the tiled ground as I made my way to Mr Patrick's Office, I remember because of the name on the door.

but I stopped right before the full body mirror that stood by his office doors. I looked down at the dark locks that had been attached to My head moments before and couldn't help raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

I ran my hand through the stubble that stretched over his scalp, thicker than a freshly harvested field. It was coarse to the touch, all trace of softness gone. I smiled. This was the new Me. I could be soft on the inside all I wanted, but on the outside had to be tough and composed. It was about time nice guys finished first, even if they had to look tough to do it or so I thought.

I had gone through great lengths to earn the roll of the Villain in this Blockbuster movie, because I seemed to have felt a connection with this character. But who knew that this was the beginning of all my suffering?, well I do...because I had seen it through these eyes for over a thousand times that I had become numb to it.

Gone were those fantasies I had the first time I awakened to this scene, Where I thought I was given a second chance or had gone back in time.

All I could do as soon I woke up was watch these scenes repeatedly through my own eyes and watch my naive self go down the path of destruction, over and over again like a broken record.

A few scenes later,

a man that walked into my courtyard, He looked liked an aged version of myself. At first his eyes were cast to the dusty earthen floor, like he was in a daze and then he seemed to suddenly realize there was no need being so angry. He lifted his head. His face had the same structure as my own, high cheekbones and symmetrical. He had the same deep brown eyes and tanned skin. He was still slender despite his years, toned and not at all stooped. Around his eyes were laughter lines in just the right amount.

I supposed that he was often happy, but at that moment he was deadly serious. In his hand he clasped a large envelope and my heart skipped a beat. It's always been like that, My body's actions are already out of my control, I don't remember how many times it had skipped a beat despite me being aware of what is to come but I remember it felt like centuries ago, well perhaps it really has been centuries, I've lost count.

He soon spotted my depressed body sitting by the fountain and He fumed again, He pulled out Photographs from the envelope, perhaps, possibly photos that had been taken of the incident. It was a scandal that had appeared two weeks after we began to shoot. I raised a hand to defend myself but ended up shouting back at him.

His face contorted in anger not the grin I had seen him wear often. Then he approached in fast easy strides and lifted his hands to slap me, then I said something I shouldn't have, something that I regret even though I don't remember what it was about.

Pathetic isn't it? He held his chest suddenly shaking and squeezing...

Help him!...Call for help!! what's the use of crying at this point?...ah He died...

I don't know why I thought it would happen differently this time, I always get disappointed in the end. I remember how weak I felt the second time I watched this relative die, What's worse is that I don't remember who he was.

I noticed that I have been forgetting a lot lately and I'm supposed to be worried but why don't I feel anything.

Ah the Ambulance came again, The police did their part and shared their condolences. But despite all this movement, my body stood there staring at where his relatives body had been.

Then Here I am at a ball with the Man who was behind it all, This Blonde haired man, I don't remember his name. I don't know how we were connected but I get angry whenever I see his face.

Watching him take a sip of whatever he was having, it took my every urge not to swat the glass away, yet his was the only way to save my own life. I remember having those thoughts so vividly.

He tilted his cup higher, drinking the entire thing in one swig, and wiped the remaining red liquid from the bottom of his lips.

I remember wondering how long it would take to go into effect. I had wondered how long it would take before he became dizzy and forgot where he was, or before his vision blurred together and his body went numb.

Minutes? Hours? How will the occupants of the Hall respond? I try to keep my thoughts off my face. Everything seemed to switch into slow motion. For a moment, I remember doubting myself. Did I poison the correct glass? His lips are moving but I do not hear a single thing, not even the piano player striking those ivory keys. I watch those lips until I flit over to look at his eyes.

Is this the last time I will ever see them? This is. This is the only way I can live. A fair trade, one could say, one life for another. His hand reaches across the table. Just his touch alone sent shivers through my body. Guilt is creeping into my gut. It takes all of my strength to withhold tears. he stands from the table. I stand as well, holding my drink. I remember thinking, do I need to do it directly. but then He smiles. He must think He had won. It quickly fades as he begins coughing, and coughing. His wine glass tumbles to the ground with him. Wine colored blood has stained the floor...

Ah how refreshed I always feel watching him die a slow and painful death...It's just....

Some days later, an older woman glanced down at my body as if it were a rug out of place, tutting at the blood that poured onto the white carpet.

"You really mustn't play around with murder, my dear." She said, addressing the younger girl. as she adjusted the straps on her smart, leather handbag. "It isn't civil."

The girl twisted the bloody knife in her hands, a playful look on her face.

"But, mother, it is ever so fun." Her creamy white dress was stained deep scarlet and spots of the victims blood speckled her face, but she was completely indifferent to the fact that the body of an innocent Man was at her feet and the weapon that killed him was in her very hands.

"Well look what you've done to the carpet, liz." Her mother said sternly, fixing her daughter with a hard stare. "You must stop with this nonsense, it's probably not healthy for you, I'm sure there are studies that confirm this."

The girl raised a blood splattered eyebrow.

"Oh, mother, I do contradict your statement." She glanced over at the next victim, who was trembling uncontrollably and had skin as pale as a corpse. She gave him a terrifying, shark-like grin with a dangerous glint in her eye as she approached this pale girl that I seemed to have grown up together with.

"How can it be dangerous when it feels so. . ." She clutched the knife in her hands as if imagining slowly, agonisingly sinking it into the gut of another innocent person. "So satisfying?"

"Liz, get rid of that peasant!" She spat at her daughter, throwing a jerky nod filled with contempt at the other pale girl sitting in my posh living room, staring wide-eyed at my body as if it were the only thing that existed in the world. Eliza noticed and shook her head, a threatening grin still plastered across her face. "Even when he is dead, She still only has eyes for her beloved brother." She whispered, her eyes staring icily at her. "How sweet."

Yes Yes I remember now, The next victim seemed to have been my sister...

My body which had been getting cold suddenly felt heated as it struggled to get saying, "Don't you dare touch her!".

I seemed to have picked up a broken glass before tumbling over the surprised girl with a stab.

"Argh!!" She shrieked, My sister is broken out of her daze as she broke out in tears.

"Run..." My body said weakly, but I know it was useless, as the mother and daughter duo got into action. The girl turned to my and started stabbing me repeatedly in a fit of anger but my body only kept staring at my sister who was being strangled a distance away.

Weakness washed over my body as my eyes was surrounded by darkness...I guess I died again, still as painful as ever...

Soon the scene began to twist again.

Clack! Clack! clack!

My footsteps echoed on the tiled ground as I made my way to Mr Patrick's Office, I remember because of the name on the door.

'Ah those Damn shoes again...I guess I really am in hell'.