Looks That Kill

Adalyn Marie was sitting at her vanity on the morning in question. The one with so many circumstances. Broadway actress just starting out and with an audition in a little less than an hour.

Her hair was as blonde as fresh sand on a Florida beach in June. She had a waist that shaped her lower body. It was a treat for the eyes to stare at her. To see her naked. That was a revelation. There had only been four guys total in her life that she had slept with. Only three had seen her naked. Those were truly the wisemen. To this day, no other man has come close to the majesty that was the night they saw a devil in the flesh.

The audition was for Phantom of the Opera. Now, this was a little off-Broadway production of the Andrew Lloyd Webber play, but none the less it was the Phantom. Her agent had contacted her a little over a few days ago with the final call back. It was between her and another girl with an ass for days. In this town, if you don't have something to offer the production, you had nothing.

Going after the role of Christine Daae was terrifying, but for Adalyn, it was a dream of chaos. She relished in the unknown. She combed her hair as she practiced her lines. A knock on the door came, and she jumped a tad bit in her chair. "Who is it?"

"It's Lily." She turned around and threw a brush at the door. It opened, and the fat stage manager poked her head through. Her red hair as messy as could be, and whatever she had for lunch sticking to her teeth. "You could just say come in." She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Do you have the lines memorized for later?" Adalyn ignored her. "Marie. Marie, do you have the lines memorized?"

"Yes. Fuck."

She retorted back. Her makeup was taking extra time today, but that was because she knew the role was hers if she looked extra slutty. The casting director had made a pass at her at the party a couple of nights prior. Pinched her ass, and she let it happen with a smile.

"I need to get ready." She shot her gaze at the door. "Get out." Lily turned to make her way out of the room. "Oh, can you hand me the brush you made me throw?" She exited the room, and Adalyn went back to the mirror. "This is yours. You deserve this." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Remember that in the end, it is only you." She stood up and made her way to the stage.

The old building walls that had been condemned at least twice in the last century had old fake wood siding. Pictures from past productions hanging, displaying their pride and joy. She grunted as she made her way through the hall. The feeling of superiority was present every second of every day for her. Her dress accented her lower body, mainly her ass. Yes, the one that he pinched a few nights back. No one ever forgot that ass.

The right of the stage was dark, with no light. She stood there and looked out into the seating. There was the old man in his slim-fitting pants and a striped button-down shirt. He probably still smelled of cigar smoke and bourbon, how her father smelled.

She hated her father. It wasn't his fault; he was a good father. Had strict guidelines, expected good grades, and didn't let her stay out too late. She hated that thought. What she did love about him was his heart. He joked with her, laughed with, and showed her what kind of man she needed.

She just never listened. Too bad, he died when she was nineteen years old, living in New York.

Getting word of his passing was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. She found herself sad but somewhat relieved he went off into a great sleep. Now he wouldn't be there to judge her when she chased her dreams. But he also wouldn't be there to make her laugh when she didn't get a role. Buy her ice cream when he visited and watch old movies under an overweight blanket.

The funeral was held on a Monday, she didn't go. Instead, there was an audition for a role she didn't get. He used to say that this world is rough and takes a demon of a certain kind to make it all the way through. She took this to heart.

"Adalyn, Marie." The fat man yelled into the wide-open auditorium. She looked back behind her, a tradition she always did. She smiled as if there were a camera or an audience. It was superficial and uncalled for, but that is what our vain beauty did.

"Hello there. My name is Adalyn Marie. You can call me Marie." She smiled and curtsied. The man picked up his half, drank a glass of water, and took a tiny sip. She thought that the water had to be lukewarm at this time.

"So, what are you going to be performing today? A line from the musical, maybe?" He asked as he slid his glasses on at that moment when he looked up and saw her standing, hot as all hell. He didn't recognize her. She took center stage and found her footing. Never answering him, she looked out into the hot spotlight, not as bright as Broadway, but bright.

"Past the point of no return - no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun." She started reciting the famous line. He watched on and smiled at the familiar line. "Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question; how long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race?" It was then that he had decided this was his Christine. "The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us?" She finished, and he sprung up in applause. The other girl watched on in horror as she thought she had already lost the part.

He didn't say another word as he gathered his papers and glasses and made his way to the back. She didn't waste a minute. It took her exactly four minutes to get to the casting director's office. It was mediocre at best, not stopping to look at the out-of-date pictures or relish in her amazing performance. She instead knocked on the door.

His shirt, up close, had coffee all over. He smelled of that bourbon she remembered a couple of nights ago. Now, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. His teeth were more yellow-stained than she recalled.

"Can I help you, Ms. Marie?" he asked as he took a puff of the cigar on que. She knew he did it as a power move. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back into the room. He stumbled onto the couch and looked at her like he already knew he was getting lucky. She kissed him while she dominated on top. Ran her fingers through his hair, or at least what was left. He grabbed her ass again and began working his way down her neck.

Leaning into his ear, she whispered, "This feels familiar?" He looked up at her and shook his head. 'No." The cigar taste on his breath was so unbearable. The smoke was so thick in the room; it was lucky she could see anything. That no, shot to her very core. She never thought she would be the type of girl that someone forgot. Her dress still clung tight to her body. He reached up and tried to find the zipper to see what only three men have seen in their lives, he was denied entry.

She stopped him and waved her finger. It was seductive but also frustrating. This man with the yellow teeth and the booze-soaked smell all over him was denied entry to heaven. He tried again. Now it took more than a wave of her finger to get him to stop. She flipped him on his back and made sure he could see but not touch. The smile that was painted on his face, to her, was repulsive. His hand was now planted on her ass. "You are telling me you don't remember this ass?" she questioned. "Am I supposed to?" he said as he reached for his glass that was sitting beside them on the floor.

"It should feel familiar because it was the one you sexually abused two nights ago." She explained. His stare didn't change; she wasn't even sure he heard her. He was too busy trying to undress her.

The grin on his face was soul-wrenching; it was disgusting in all forms of the word. "Put your arms above your head." He obeyed her command. This was a sexual encounter that he was not going to risk losing.

The rope was of great quality, he noted as she tied his hands in an excellent knot. "I was a girl scout." She said with flirty eyes. If he didn't already heed the warning that this was not just a sexual embrace, with how tight she tied that rope, he wasn't going to get it at all. His hand started turning a purple shade that was the warning for blood not being able to circulate.

"Untie me, you bitch." He screamed at her as he tried to wiggle free. It wasn't going to happen. The couch was starting to fall out from under him. She smiled and started to giggle under her breath. It was an empty room that was perhaps bigger than it needed to be. If it were not for his request to have a soundproof room, the janitor walking down the hall might have heard him and been able to intervene. "Bitch! Untie me!" She was still laughing, enjoying every second of the revenge.

"Do you remember me?" she said as she grabbed his chin and got as close as one could without embracing lips.

"No! Who the fuck are you?" he tried to wiggle free again, this time writhing around on the floor.

"Oh, I'm Christine Daae." She said as she burst out in laughter. If it weren't a sadistic event, it would be poetic. Her purse was sitting on the desk to the right of the room. At any moment, she had three things in it. A card from the bank where her father's inheritance money was. A butterfly knife with her initials imprinted on the side. And last, a tube of red lipstick. The knife was at the very bottom of the bag as she reached in and pulled it out. The blade was shiny as if well kept up over the years. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if trying to take a moment in.

"Okay! Okay! The part is yours." He proclaimed as he was begging for his life. "I was going to give it to you, anyway." He finished.

Adalyn shook her head in understanding. "I know the part is mine." She grabbed the paper for the final request for the role. "Here you go, put it in ink." The pen was put in his hand as quickly as possible. "Make it official." The ink went on without any hesitation like it knew that she was destined for that part. A smile on her face showed her excitement at the final decision.

"There. It's done." He said, throwing the pen down with the only hand that was somewhat free. The maniacal laughter erupted into a symphony.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You aren't getting out of this room." She said with a crooked insane smile.

"But I gave you the part! I gave you what you wanted!" he tried to reason with her. "Untie me, you fucking whore." He demanded.

She walked closer to his body that was rolling around the floor. The knife was gleaming the light from the low dimmed room's one lamp. It seems that in the time of desperation where he saw his death coming closer. This man didn't pray, nor did he consult a higher being. He simply closed his eyes and took deep breaths, in and out.

"Do you know why your life is about to end?" She asked as she stopped her movement for a moment. His eyes stayed shut.

"You wanted the part that bad?" She shook her head.

"No, this is for that night. The night you thought it was a good idea to touch me inappropriately. And here is the kicker. You don't even remember it."

"I DO! I DO! It was a few nights ago at Nicholson's house. You were wearing that black sequence dress. I grabbed your ass." She shook her head in agreement. "It would've been better if you hadn't remembered." She examined her knife. "Oh well." She made her final push towards him.

The knife felt cold as it touched his wrist just below the rope. "Have to make it look like you took your own life. But you will know in the grave that the devil in red lipstick got her revenge." It moved down his arm like it was cutting through butter. The blood didn't take any time at all to spill out onto the floor. The pool that he now laid in seemed to signify his life—the booze and the cigars, the women that he took advantage of, that drowned him. And now, his blood would do the same thing.

She looked over at the paper that was freshly signed, naming her the lead female role. A grin crept onto her face as she took in her work. Closing her eyes, her father's words echoed around in her mind. "This world is rough, and it takes a certain kind of demon to make it all the way through." The grin got bigger.

As a few moments passed, she made sure that there was no evidence of her being there. "The rope would be the smoking gun if left behind." She thought as she scanned for any other hint of her presence. Her body and dress were quite easy to inspect. No blood anywhere on her, just around her feet. "Don't make any tracks in the pools of blood." She reasoned to herself.

She walked out of the room and closed the door, making sure to lock it behind her. They would find him in probably a day or two, and no one would be the wiser. She would have her starring role in an off-Broadway production of her favorite musical, and the world would have one less creep in it. The halls were now vibrant in her eyes.

There is something to be said after taking a life. This is now the third person she has taken from this world. The first of which was her unborn sibling. This, of course, was when her mother was still present in her life. The belly was showing, no more than four months along. Jealousy sits in, and when it does, it consumes you. It's all you can think about; breathing becomes labored. Only at the age of four, she still the same assassin's eyes. At the top of the stairs, her mother was polishing the banister, nothing more than chores. The four-year-old that was beyond her years saw an opportunity. They chalk it up to an accident, and it wouldn't be spoken of again, at least out loud.

After the event of the miscarriage, her father picked up drinking. Her mother became a recluse, struggling, every day with the loss of a child. Their marriage would eventually crumble, and she left without saying a word. Leaving Adalyn behind and it seemed almost forgotten. That was the first time she took life from this world.

The second wouldn't come until about a decade later. Her first boyfriend was what you would call the city's son—an aspiring athlete at a young age, promising future. Even in youth, you can show promise. When Adalyn fell in love for the first time, it rendered her vulnerable. She would do anything he asked. Now, at the age of fourteen, forever seems like exactly as it sounds. It was a windy night in the town that she hoped to forget. The dark sky was lit up by numerous stars, a night to fall in love. He knocked on her door just as he had thousands of times leading to this. She looked in the mirror to make sure she was drop-dead gorgeous for him. Now, obviously, her father didn't answer the door; he was too busy sleeping one off on the couch to notice where she was. She grimaced as she passed the walkway to the living room where he lay.

"Hey, there." She said as the door swung open. He looked at her, and she just knew that something was off in his eyes. In the way, he would touch her a little later. Young love doesn't last forever. It just seems that way because you are young. He would tell her that his father had just received a call from his grandmother; she was dying. That didn't seem to matter to her. All she heard was he was leaving the town and her with it. This was the first time the knife would be used. Just like the wrists of the old fat director, his throat was cut like butter. The town was in an uproar, but she played her part perfectly. No one suspected her. Sometimes, Adalyn will close her eyes and remember the boy and how he made her feel. But sadly, he was gone and had been for a long time. She can't quite decide if it was regret or love, but she misses him from time to time.

The theatre's back door swung open and led to the back alley, where no one would see her leave. Scanning the area, she waited for the perfect time to cross the street, with minimal people on the street. The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky, and she needed a pick me up. Getting revenge seemed to be exhausting. She had never been down this way before, not this part of the neighborhood. The sidewalk was clear of anyone for a second, so she stepped out and looked around. On the opposite side of the street and four buildings to the left was a café. She nodded and sighed. Crossing the street, she knew that she had gotten away with it, and after this cup of coffee, it would never cross her mind again. The sign in front of her read, "New Haven Café."

The window showed not very many people in the café. "Perfect, she thought." She got to the front of the door and pushed it open. The walls seemed to have a floral wallpaper that she thought disgusting. Three people were in the café currently in the afternoon. An old couple, sitting and enjoying each other's company. The old man had a cane sitting next to him, and the old woman was sipping on a cup of tea. The steam from the cup was rising into her face, and she seemed barely coherent.

The second was some sort of businessman that sat off to the far corner, reading the newspaper. His bag sat beside him on the floor, overstuffed with documents and papers. She noticed a ticket for a flight sitting on the table.

The third was a young man in a brown suede jacket with a laptop out on the table, typing away. A young waitress was filling his cup with black coffee. "Beautiful." Adalyn thought of the waitress, almost jealous. She focused on the young man with the jacket. Something about him screamed with interest to her.

He had this hair that seemed not brown, but not blonde. Some would describe it as sandy, but not her. His eyes indicated that he doesn't sleep much. An insomniac? Works at night?

There was no sign telling her to find a seat or wait to be seated. So, she took matters into her own hands. She found herself, inexplicably, walking to the man with the laptop. As she got closer, she saw in his eyes hope. It almost resembled fire. This was so sexy to her. He had a passion, but for what? For whom? "Hello, there, cutie." She said as she sat down in the seat in front of him. Don looked up, and the first thing he saw was the fire engine red lipstick. He quivered.

"Hello." He closed his laptop.

Jess was getting another pot ready when she saw him smile at her. It was subtle, but it was the way he smiled at her the day before. The thief was getting the feeling that she was getting something stolen from her. She turned away and made her way to the kitchen, exiting the back door. She fell to the ground, and tears started to well up in the corner of her eyes.

Adalyn was biting her lower lip in an attempt to seduce him. "Very attractive." He said as he slides his freshly poured coffee over to her. She seemed confused as she looked down at the cup and over the back at him. No one had ever been so kind to her, to offer her his coffee. She took a sip and winked. She had gotten her dream role and now she saw something else she wanted.

That is how the dreamer would meet the devil.