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“So Cinder, how did you become the person you are today?” Roman asked suddenly.
“What?” Cinder asked, looking up from her scroll.
“I’m bored, and don’t know all that much about you,”
“So you decided to ask me about my past?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Sure, why not. It’s not like there’s anything else I can do right now. After my run in with Red a few weeks ago, I’ve been leaving the Dust collecting to the grunts.”
Cinder rolled her eyes, before a thought occurred to her, and a theatrical gin spread across her face. “Well then, sit back now, let me tell you a tale, where justice does not prevail. About an ill fated life, so very full of strife, where two wrongs do not make a right. So! When I was born, I did surely scorn my proud parents name, then their lives went down the drain. Drove them insane, my birth was a curse, I bit the nurse, oh but I love the worst!”
I deserve to be slowly submersed, dried out then laid in a hearse. Cinder frowned at the thought. Her past was not the brightest, she knew that, and when she had been younger those sorts of thoughts had been common as she had gone through her…less than pleasant deeds, but she could have sworn that she had eradicated the things from mind forever. She shook her head, and continued on with her tale.
“When I was two, I poured super glue into my fathers hair, as he sat unaware in his arm chair. Much to his dismay had to cut it all away, oh, but it felt great.” I deserve to be cut and filleted, then tossed about in disarray, until the pieces melt away. “When I was four, I’d wait by the door with a knife in my hand, and a most devious plan. It would be quite grand as the mail fell through the slot, the sharp edge he got. Oh, but I love the thought.” I deserve to be tied in a knot, broken bones and blood clots. “When I was six I used to trick the next door neighbors son. In the woods we would run. Time for fun. Hide and seek has a cost, he would be forever lost. Oh, but I love to scoff.” I deserve to have my head lopped off, hidden and covered in moss, until the memory’s forgot.
“When I was eight, I used to hate the color of my house, so as quiet as a mouse, I burned it down. To the ground. When no one was around. Oh, but I love the sound,” I deserve to be quickly put down, rotting six feet underground. “When I was ten, I used to pretend to drown in the sea ’til they’d come to rescue me. Then precede to laugh in their face, such a disgrace. Oh, but I love the taste.” I deserve to have my brains displaced all over the fireplace, until this life has been erased.
“When I was twelve I used to delve into evil schemes. Just to elect screams, boost my self esteem. Pushed my sister down a well, she just fell. Oh, but I love to dwell.” I deserve to roast deep down in hell, where no one can hear me yell. “When I was fourteen…nothing much happened,” Then a light chuckle passed Cinder’s lips as she said, “Well, there was that one time.” Cinder then proceeded to launch into a long story of gore and disgust, enough to make Romsn pale, and feel his blood curdle in his veins, and when the tale finally seemed to die down, just slightly, it launched further, making some part of Roman wish that he would flee, but the rest of him wanted to stick around long enough to see where this tale was going. At the end of that part, Cinder chuckled darkly, whether it was at the tale, or Ronan’s reaction to it, he still couldn’t explain to this day.
“When I was sixteen, life was frightening. My brother was quite dull, so with laughter in my skull, pushed him in a hole, then buried him alive. He barely survived. Oh, but I love the cries.” I deserve to be battered and fried, in an electric chair that’s set on high. “Then I was eighteen. I still hated things, from the padded cell I called my home. No friends, no phone, no life to call my own. My thoughts consisted of, here I will lie, until the very day I die, until my blood begins to dry, and I return to the darkness from whence I came. Then Salem found me, and as they say the rest is history. So, I am not a bad person, even though I do bad things. Very bad things. Such horrible things! But it’s not quite what it seems, not quite what I seem.” Cinder stopped for a minute before offering a shrug and offering a, “Aw hell, I’m exactly what I seem.”
“A psychopath?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow.
Cinder laughed and said, “The only psychopath in the room is you if you actually fell for that story. Those are lyrics from a song Roman.” She laughed heartedly again before saying, “My past is a dark one, but not one I intend to share Roman. As for the telling you that tale, I was killing time myself, as I need to go. Enjoy yourself,” she said casually as she wandered out of the room, hearing a muttered, “Damned woman,” as she did, and she chuckled lightly again.