Snippet #1691828

Why had she asked the question in the first place? Stormy's stomach sank slightly, but her heart was racing just as his was. He wasn't afraid of her. He hadn't cringed at the dead bodies and the blood. He was different - in more ways than one, now that she thought about it... The way he acted was like he hadn't excepted her to form such a question. In all truth, neither had she. Friends weren't something she had. She was evil, a villain. She knew it, whether she liked it or not. And nobody wanted to be friends with the bad-guys.

But he did. That was something new all-together. The murder this morning was washed from her mind. Her thoughts clicked into action, working to remember everything about him. He liked dolls, he was perky and eccentric, he was different. She liked that. For some reason, Stormy liked that. Maybe it was because it made her feel a little more sane than she actually was; and she knew she was insane, in an odd sort of way. Some part of her knew that she wasn't "normal". But she didn't believe that. She didn't want to believe that. She was normal. It was everyone else who was strange. They needed to be punished. It wasn't ok to be strange.

Before she could protest, Zared had taken her by the hand and was pulling him after her, leading her down the street in the direction of a restaurant. From a distance, Stormy had always been fond of the restaurant. Something about it was satisfying, despite how people went there in all smiles instead of frowns. What was the point of smiling? It was ignorance. They were all ignorant.

"The restaurant?" she asked. Was she surprised? What an odd sensation. Her bright, icy gaze flickered over to where the building sat. The smell of the food was definitely enough to draw her attention. "Yeah, it's nice," she said, unbothered by his clinging.