By the time highschool ended I had already become some sort of urban legend. There were rumors of many incidents that involved me, directly or indirectly, that made people believe there was some kind of curse around me. The truth is I never did half the things they swore they had seen me do, and the other half was altered and exagerated. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the status and the power that came with it: some feared me, some worshipped me, many hated me, but all of them respected me.
Now, all legends have some truth to them, and my case wasn’t at all the exception. I was always seen as the beautifulest encarnation of corruption, some kind of sick fallen angel. I posessed a number of intrisic qualities that awarded me with that mysterious and unholy condition. My mouth was lust and hatred at the same time, my eyes were just like dead sweetness, my voice was so harsh and apathetic that every word sounded like the beautifulest song. Both men and women wanted me, but not many were screwed up enough to do something about it.
I wasn’t all about appearances and perceptions though. Sure, I was the strange girl who would dress like a man from monday to friday and appear at a party wearing only a tiny black dress and lipstick, capturing all the looks. I was that girl, but I didn’t do it for exhibitionism, I did it because I was a hunter. I would come home with someone everytime, even though my standards were high. I prefered girls, but they were harder to trap, so sometimes I had to settle down with a man. Once in my room, I would get high and devour my catch, and throw them out once I was satisfied. Of course, that got me a reputation and some people assumed I was going to be their personal whore. I’d take those to my room like the last time and fuck them in a way that left them traumatized and scared of women for the rest of their lives.
I used my reputation to my advantage. Once, a guy paid me enough money to buy a new vinyl dress and a good 15 grs. of angel dust just to fuck his straight girlfriend while he watched. I appeared at his place while they were making out, and after he convinced her to stay (even though “that evil whore was there”) I proceded to seduce her. I just sat next to her and started singing songs I had learnt when I was a little girl, very quietly. Once she was under my spell I started rubbing her thigh while whispering the dirtiest sweet things to her ear. Moments later I had two fingers up her asshole and my tongue buried in her cunt while she screamed obscenities. She broke up with him the next day and stalked me for days until I got sick of fucking her and told her to kill herself. She did it.
She wasn’t the only one to meet tragedy because of me. My neighbour lost his wife, his children, his job (he was a congressman), and the respect of the entire community because I told everyone how he forced me to suck his cock at least once a week. He started thinking he was in control, that\'s why I did it. No one believed I had been forced, not even my parents, but I wasn’t expecting them to do so anyway and the fact that I was only seventeen was enough to do the trick. A girl beat me up with a baseball bat once, she cornered me as I escaped from home to go to a concert, accusing me of having casted a black magic spell on her, which was ridiculous. Three months later her boyfriend put her in the hospital after I put a drug in his drink and told him she had been cheating on him with his step-father. Some people say that everyone who ever fucked me died young, accidents or diseases. I know it’s part of the myth, but who knows.
By the end of the summer I had dissapeared and people seemed to want to forget about me. Every now and then kids would talk about the cursed girl who was in their same school; how she was sent to a mental ward five years ago after video-taping her friend killing herself. All I can say about that is, she was going to do it anyway, I just wanted something to remember her. She was a good girl, I loved her, but if she didn\'t kill herself I was going to do her the favor, her life was horrible and I couldn\'t bare watching her.
I\'ve never tried to analize my past actions, and I never will. It\'d be a useless waste of time. I only sit, waiting until it\'s time to return to life, and dwell. You would dwell too, if you had had such a beautiful nightmare/life.