waxy petals.

Buttercup never wanted to sound so helpless ever again. She punched the bully in the stomach, hard enough for him to cough up blood. He keeled over, falling to his knees. Buttercup's face was stony, an expression reminiscent of a marble statue made in the likeness of an angry god. She knew people were already scared of her and since the attack, she kept herself meek. She didn't rock the boat and worse people took advantage of that. They tried to coerce her into doing things for them, tried to intimidate a vampire princess to do their bidding. She wasn't helpless. She didn't want to hurt anyone else close to her. There was a difference.

Turning on her stiletto, the vampire left the scene. Her expression cracked. She began to frown, her bottom lip trembling. She was going to spill tears again?

Before she couldn't care less, tears often got her what she wanted. Nowadays, they spilled when she didn't want them to. Guess she was more of a genuine crybaby now than before. Funny how that worked out. She was wiping at her eyes when she closed the door to the auditorium.

Her steps echoed as she made her way down the row of seats. Her backpack fell with a large thud just in front of the stage. One jump and she was standing on the stage with ease. Being a vampire always had its perks. 

She turned to face the empty auditorium. She tried to imagine the seats filled with people, excited to see her become a character. Maybe they've met the heroine or maybe they're meeting her for the first time. They'd be watching her every move, watching this character come to life and their story unfold before their very eyes. They weren't looking at Buttercup, though. They were looking for a heroine of a play, or maybe a villainess. Whoever they may be watching, it was never going to be Buttercup.

It was only going to be one time— she took a deep breath. A lump already started forming in her throat, her stomach getting queasy at the thought. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. The princess stepped to the very edge of the stage, clasping her hands together and holding her chin up high.

“My father—" Her voice already cracked. She had to stop, swallow the lump, and blink away the tears, before she could start up again. This wasn't a performance. This was Buttercup. "My father made me feel like I was worthless every day for twenty-one years. He'd get mad at me for not living up to his expectations. He compared my value to other people, and the others always came out on top. Then, he'd pretend he was this amazing father because of something I accomplished on my own. He discredited my own effort and said that everything a child does is because of the parent that raised them. He made me feel like I was always going to be dependent on him. I was nothing without him. I wasn't going anywhere in life unless he made me do it. That's... That's how he made me feel like.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks. It made her mascara run. Her hands shook, even though they were still clasped in front of her. This was Buttercup. Not Buttercup the crybaby, Buttercup the princess, Buttercup the actress. Just Buttercup. Sad, droopy Buttercup.

“He hit me once. Right across the cheek. Not some warning slap, either. My lip was fat and there's a mark where his nails caught into my skin on my eyebrow. He called me a bitch. He told me 'fuck you'. All because I told him I thought I wasn't worthy of his time, so I was going to run away and live on the streets. He called me selfish. He called me dumb. He called me mean. He told me that I was the worst vampire he's ever seen. I thought I was a burden to him so I was going to do the brave thing and take away the burden from someone I loved— And I got hit for it!”

She started sobbing. Her hands finally unclasped as they covered her face. She cried into her hands. No one else is going to see these tears. Not these kinds of tears. These kinds of tears were ones that Buttercup promised that no one else would see. Tears because of her father. The tears that hurt the most. Her knees buckled and she fell. She stayed like that for a long time. Crouched, sobbing in the middle of a stage with no audience.

“I think I'm worthless. I think I'm a burden. I think I'm nothing. I think I'm bad. I became my father!” she cried into her hands. “He's here. He's inside me. He's telling me all the worse things about me and I can't stop it! I want it to stop! I want to feel like the princess he wanted me to be! I want to be the girl that all my friends tell me that I am! But I'm not, I'm not... I'm not.”

There was no way to tell how much time passed by. Buttercup personally felt like it was eons. But it was after school and there were no scheduled theatre programs. No one was going to be in the auditorium tonight. No one'd barge in, no one'd interrupt, no one'd save her. Her sobs slowly turned into sniffles. She had enough strength in her legs again to stand. She let out a gasp as she jumped down the stage as if her body had turned to rustic metal after it all. She stumbled, her knees barely touching the floor before she picked herself up again. Grabbing her backpack, her sniffles completely disappeared. Only the echoes of her steps could be heard across the auditorium. Buttercup opened the door. She looked back to the empty space.

It was only one time. This was going to be the only time she let her heart bleed out instead of stitching it up without letting anyone else know.