The Psycho, The Princess, and The Mafia King.

Elle POV. Once upon a time lived a beautiful girl, her name was Elle, her eyes were brown, boring color, but hers had a shine into them, her hair was also brown, the beautiful brown with some natural highlights into them. She wasn’t the tallest person ever, but she’s not short either, she’s an average girl, her skin was fair, she never liked the sun, it burned her rather than tanning her. Elle was your average seventeen year old girl, from the outside you’d think she’s just normal, just another girl, no one special. That’s what you’d say looking at her from the outside, but if you come and look behind the closed doors, things aren’t that good, things are cold, they are bad, they are filled with abuse and hurt. Elle grew up in a house with a drug addict mother, a father who’s self-centered enough to think the universe spin around him instead of the sun, he’s the main focus for himself. Elle went through hell, please leave all your dreams and hopes outside, before enjoying the ride, or maybe not. The beating was a normal thing around here, the pain, the tears, Elle went through so much that she needed a thing to help her cope, she couldn’t survive everything she’s going through. As if it’s not enough, school was another nightmare, bullies, they take it too far sometimes, seeing your teared clothes, wearing same things over and over again, they had new reasons to bully her every day. It hurt, all the comments, she heard them, filled them all in, until her soul was filled with the hate, she believed them. She’s too fat, although she hardly eat, she’s not pretty, she’s ugly, she should just kill herself, the bruises were something else. They’d ask her if she got into a fight? If someone tried to kill her and be over with it, but then they’ll ask why did they missed, why didn’t they do the job, they should just finish it themselves. Elle held it all in, now back to the coping mechanism, to why she haven’t killed herself, to why she wasn’t listening, the way to survive the pain, have you ever heard about age regression? It’s something people do to help cope with trauma especially the ones who have a bad childhood, the one where no one ever cared about you, the one where you had to learn to cook for yourself or starve. If you need new clothes, well good luck saving for those and buying some from a second handed shop, you get the point. Age regression was Elle’s way of surviving, she read some stories online, she imagined being there, she was taken by stories, by the love of books and the world of fiction, until she could forget all about her pain, all about the bruises, and all about everything. Sadly to say, she never had any care giver, those were tricky to find, most people are into the s****l bits of them, I, I mean she was more of an asexual person, she doesn’t hate s*x really, but she need to have some emotional relation with someone first before even thinking about s*x, or having it with anyone. She had zero s****l expertise, while everyone else was busy sucking each other face in high school, she got bullied and had to hide away from everyone. The only s*x she knows about was from her stories, the one were the characters enjoyed and explained their feelings, she had no idea if that was real or just stories word. But if she ever gonna have something, whether with a girl or a boy, it got to be with someone she loves, with someone who’d respect and love her, someone who’d make sure that she’ll enjoy every second of it. Elle grew up, no one expected her to be seventeen forever, by the age of eighteen, she moved out, she found her own job, a place to stay. College wasn’t on her to do list, although she always dreamt of going to culinary school, but that was too damn expensive, the closer she’ll get to her dream was her work in a low key restaurant, she wasn’t even in the kitchen. Her job was a waitress, the place was dirty on it’s best days, the food was cheap and uneatable, if you’re lucky, the sandwich would have everything it supposed to have and nothing else. She also had a side job, remember her love for stories, she became an online author, writing stories about imaginary scenarios that would never happen, where the prince would sit next to you in the bus and be a daddy who doesn’t care about s*x. That’s just a story, don’t believe that, the person who’s looking at you in the bus like you’re a snack, that’s probably a p*****t, you better hide away, and run toward the house, don’t forget to lock the door behind you. Yup, that’s me, the famous Elle, find me on Dreame, w*****d, and everywhere else, I’m done talking about myself in the third person. I’m eighteen now, a waitress, an author, and a little. I like to think that I’m a princess, imagination is my best friend, always have been, and always would be, I have my world in the dream world, where everything is nice and peachy. I don’t have any little things, those are extremely expensive and I’m saving up, I still need to pay rent and have some food, I’m fat, I just gave up and made amends with being a big girl. Most littles in my stories are tiny! Short underweight, and in need of saving, I don’t need a prince charming to save me, I saved myself and now I’m planning my revenge, and that’s also pricey. What I want is a hitman, I’m not in the most unsafe city, I don’t live in the bad part of the city, I live in the average part, safety is everything for me, I haven’t survived so long only to be killed by some random serial killer. I live in a shitty studio apartment, it’s what I call home, it’s where I sleep, eat, write and where I’m planning my revenge. The hitman I was contacting, it’s a she, I’m all in to girl power, she’s the cheapest I could find, I need her to kill someone for me, well two someone for me. She agreed on that, but we’ve also been messaging online lately, she told me to call her the Devil, a very bad ass name. She’s my online friend, and I really enjoy chatting with her, I had a night off today, it’s a rare thing for me to have a night off. I was still waiting for her to do the hit, she said all our connection will be cut the second things are done, but I don’t think she want to cut ties with me, I’m the devil friend apparently. “Hi girl” I say with a big smile, she’s been trying to get me to talk about why I want them dead, what happened to me, but I’m really good at hiding things. “Hi princess, what’s up?” she replies, princess is her nickname to me, I might have accidentally slipped being a little in front of her. How a hitman does knows what a little is, that’s a question only the Devil could answer you, if not my friend the Devil, the real one would answer you for real. In all reality, I think she works for the devil, the real king of hell, but she’s my friend, and she loves me, she said so herself. “Nothing, just some work. The usual, you know I’m short on chapters” I say with a whine. “Is there any author who’s not short on chapters?” she replies with a sigh, yeah yeah true, I’m always ten chap short (For real I am). “Not me” I say in all honestly. “We need to meet up girlie, you need a kick in the bum to help you with your stories” Devil says making me giggle.