Birth By Sleep (2)

Being the first to detach from the tension I popped open a tube of lipstick in a beguiling burnt crimson shade and carefully dabbed it on my already pinkish lips.

Yes, Evangeline was supposed to die.

Her fate was inescapable, and in turn her death would be the spark to an unsettling series of events to showcase the extent of human darkness. The degree in which human beings would go for their beliefs.

But somehow, due to some crazy out of this world phenomena, she didn't die. She lived. Or, at least, I lived in her stead. Which all just adds to the confusion.

In essence, I'm not Evangeline Rose Miyako. The beautiful, sweet, filthy rich girl next door. I'm...Eva. That's right, just Eva. An up and coming novelist with a preference for the morbid and absurd. A girl who always found her imagination much more enjoyable to the company of real people. But maybe that's what costed me my heaven.

I can't remember much of anything else, not even what I looked like, or the type of person I was before, aside from the fact that I'm her now. The girl who was used as a spark for unriveting terror, trapped inside the premise of my debut horror novel "The End of Evangeline" which in itself is an absurd thought.

For the past week I've been planning what I could do in my current situation. To make sense of it all I stayed silent and observed everything around me. Soon, I pieced together the world I'm in, using the fragmented memories of my former self to keep me afloat.

I then realized I ignored the major plot point of the story: Evangeline's own death, which forces everything in motion. I've come to terms with the fact that this doesn't mean I won't die. Afterall, how could the story go on? I know my characters, I created them, but I don't even know who I am. Or who I was or why I'm even in the world I made up on creative whim in the first place.

"Evangeline?" I barely looked at her.

"Yes?"

"Where did you get that?"

I didn't spare a second thought to the crude expression on the outer curve of her lip. Eyes glued to the goddess before me, unmoving. Normally I couldn't stand to look at myself. To stare into a face that wasn't my own. For my whole identity to be replaced by a superficial visage with petite elegant features and eyes that could bring men to their knees. There was a reason I blocked all the mirrors in the suite - so I wouldnt have to deal with my broken identity or the emotions involved. But after getting a closer look, I came to the epiphany that I'm undeniably gorgeous.

Beautiful.

It was strange to think this, like some wound up part of myself was slowly unravelling, revealing itself and being blinded by the light in which it encountered. And this feeling enraptured me. It was amazing to see that not having any makeup could keep me looking like an angel, but having a little bit of rouge made me look far more alive then I ever did before. Beauty is indeed power...

"Your vanity," I smiled, meeting her suspicious stare once more. This time, without backing down. Evelyn Miyako was Evangeline's adopted younger sister. She was the one figuring out Evangelines death piece by piece until she finally achieved everything she ever wanted. In the end, she got away with being the culprit of her own sisters demise. All because of her desperation and greed for more than what she already had. "I hope that's fine with you, I need to look my best for where I'm going."

"But you need to recover." She said persuasively. "If you go anywhere in the state you're in, mom and dad will be worried sick!"

"I can take care of myself from now on, Eve." Sliding on a silk black dress and a pair of diamond earings I smirked at how wrong that sentence sounded to my ears. I could never take care of myself, not if I wasn't forced to. "Plus..."

I walked over to her and grinned. "It's where you intended to leave me in the first place."

"I don't know what you're going on about." She murmured. I paused.

After a silent moment I let out a giggle and reached my arms out to wrap around her tense shoulders. Pulling her in close to my chest I blew softly into her ear.

"The House of Night," Feeling her body go rigid I twirled a lock of her hair and pulled with reserved force so that she was facing up to see me. She yelped in surprise.

"Rather, the House of Nosferatu."