Born in a family of rich high-class people, Flaky considers it to be normal when people look and give her this amusing confused looks when she walks.
She gives off this untouchable aura that sets people off; her friends—or at least that's what they claimed themselves to be—sometimes clench their teeth in annoyance at her stone-cold behavior. Her eyes don't give herself away; blank as paper, bored as hell and dead as what the dead should be. The way she speaks and moves, graceful and calm and stunningly elegant, make the others to look at her in adoration and jealousy.
But some girls just love to spread rumors about her, rumors like she's just a dead doll and all she has to do is stand there and look pretty for her parents. She knows that the rumors will change again when she walks over toward them with two bottles of champagnes and spills the drinks on their dresses and all over their heads.
Her parents are not pleased with her behavior, but they stay put and watch her cautiously, waiting for her next move. The entire men in the room freeze and shift their attentions fully at her, mostly in mild amusement or interest. Flaky just shrugs and gives the girls a polite smile.
"My sincere apologize, ladies. It appears that I accidentally spilled the drinks on your dresses. Would you like me to call 911 and report me to the police? Or call your lawyers and sue me? Either way; I have a lot of more expensive clothes upstairs, in case you want to throw those rags away." And with that, she walks away like nothing happened and continues to greet the guests, who seem to be taken aback, but greet her back otherwise.
It's in that same day and moment, when someone catches her eyes. By the way he's looking at her through his glass of wine—charming and amused and handsome downright sexy—she likes to think that she has caught his attention as well.
The man, with his neat light green hair, soft features, and bright tempting eyes, cocks his head toward an empty room upstairs at her way, and she nods, ever so slightly that she's afraid he might miss it. He doesn't though, and the smile turns into a playful seductive smirk that sends shiver down her spines.
None of them speak when they arrive at the room. She wordlessly crushes his lips against hers, ruffling his hair and clawing at the skin on his neck, while he tears her blood-red dress apart easily. He asks for her number between kisses, and she literally writes it on his arm with an inkless pen. They come out a few minutes later, and no one suspects a thing.
They start meeting more often, but mostly because he wants to or when she skips school and has nothing to do. He becomes obsessed with her, she notices, and doesn't really mind when he becomes over-protective as well. It's kind of cute and sexy, especially since it's him.
She learns that his name is Flippy. He learns that she's the rumored Flaky. When she asks what he's going to do about it, about her and those stupid rumors, he grins and puts her ring finger into his mouth. It looks and feels sensual, and she loves it. She feels something cold and circle-shaped slides into her finger, and when he lets go, there's a white ring with small white diamonds around her finger.
For the first time in her entire life, her face brightens with delight, and she kisses him senseless to express how happy she is.
His parents let him marry her, because he will still do it anyway if they refuse, and her parents are more than happy to see their daughter marry someone with higher status than they are, even after she is nicknamed "the Psycho's fiancée".
There's this birthday party of a Lord's son who turns eighteen they're supposed to atten for the sake of their families'. He's off talking with his friends while she's off talking with hers, their eyes locked intimately despite the distance.
She feigns interest in the topic, paying attention once in a while before being distracted by the grin her fiancé throws at her, when a young man approaches them. Well, he's practically approaching her, given his eyes are roaming all over her body, from head to toe, but for the sake of their so called 'friendship', she will say that he's approaching them.
He's a pleasant company. Her friends like him, but she doesn't. She never likes anyone in her life, her own parents included. Splendid tries to gain her attention, but she smiles politely and excuses herself.
"Do you like him?" Flippy asks suddenly when her hands are busy unbuttoning his shirt. She murmurs an 'I do' before capturing his lips with hers.
That night, he doesn't stay with her because there's an urgent business of some sort. It's clear as day that he's lying, but she's tired and needs some sleep, so it doesn't really matter. The morning however, becomes somewhat interesting when the news of Splendid's death spread in the TV and newspapers.
She's reading Red Riding Hood on the couch in his bedroom when he approaches and plants kisses down her neck. She's supposed to run, because his clothes are stained with fresh blood—Splendid's, she assumes—but she doesn't.
"When I said I like him, I meant he was tolerable, not so much to the point of murder." She whispers softly against his lips, and he chuckles. "It's too late, love."