Painted Smile Madame Macabre Lyrics Novels & Stories

“I might not see what you expect, so don’t be disappointed.” Lifting my hand to his stubbled cheek, I inhale and touch his face. Images overlap in my head, three different women all smiling, then looking at me with distorted faces. Three women, three blonde women with their heads severed and hearts ripped out, and a man in a hood was laughing and licking the blood from his fingers. “Ma-ri-na”, he whispers in a sing-song voice, over and over. “You can’t hide from your mate forever….” I see a faceless blonde woman standing up and running towards me with her extended claws.

That cruel, demonesque smirk. It spoke louder and clearer than any word could ever say. He was going to find me and when he does... I clenched my eyes shut as my thoughts clouded. Through the haze of it, I could only see one thing on the canvas of my mind. My greys intermingled with black and then I was thrown into an odyssey of darkness. A maze of questions that didn't have answers. Madeline's form that awash the canvas scarlet and beside that Marienne's beautiful Turquoise eyes that held hatred for me.

When I saw his fangs, I don't think my brain trusted my eyes, but then he bent and buried them into my neck. I heard his voice in my thoughts as he began to feed. "You are so delicious," he murmured, and "your blood is so sweet." I trembled in terror as images formed in my head. They belonged to another girl, a young woman with long brown hair. He was sucking on her neck in the same way that he was sucking on mine. She screamed the whole time till she passed out. He smiled as he snapped her neck, then walked away, dropping her into a garbage can.

Her cheeks were chubby and flushed, I don't know if it was due to make-up or a natural reaction, but she was flushed. She forced a smile behind her full lips, revealing a glimpse of her one crooked tooth on the right, between her neat teeth and the sharp dimples on both cheeks. Mesmerizing. Lovely. The kind that would constantly be in your head and always distracting you, but you'd never get tired of it. But that sucks. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Sebastian Sanchez." My eyes misted over, almost darkening. My blood flow seemed to stop under my skin. Sparks seemed to lick my skin, burns me with its heat.

And the script called for a slap. A malicious and cruel smile curved Sabrina's lips. Perfect.

She put down the microphone. "Until she loses her mind and kills herself. Then, everyone will be happy." She smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. "But not a happy ending," she sighed. "As for me, I will be happy seeing the Charles Empire collapse." Her voice became slow, dangerous, and low. "I am glad to destroy them." Her smile wasn't funny at all; it was chilling.

She sees me trembling on the floor with my dress in tatters and laughs. “Die mafia-Schlampe.” "The Mob Bitch." “That's me.” I answer bravely. The woman snorts. "I hope you have that same smile when he's ripping you apart." everyone behind her scoffs. I get up from the floor, straighten my dress and face her. “And I hope you're still arrogant when Sabrina slits you open alive.” The woman erases her smile. I hear applause from someone, everyone looks at each other and I smile when I see Sabrina leaving the mansion with a group of men at his side.

She screeches to the skies, unable to contain her excitement. She sighs once her laughter calms down and falls limp on her throne. A cruel smile paints her face, running her bloody hands down her face to paint her skin. “Death sounds so… beautiful. Doesn’t it?”

To kill a monster, you must become one yourself *~* Cracking of bones, screams of anguish and agony, reddish liquid spread all over, the sound of lugubrious cries, taste of salty tears. All were like a melodious sound to his ears, and a blissful scene in his eyes. His lips curved into a smile, his smile was sadistic, atrocious, inhumane, and fiendish, a complete display of the man he was, the real rapscallion in our closet, the nightmares that stalked the weak, languid, and even the vigorous of mind.

The message was straightforward, leaving no room for ambiguity. Nysaa's plea appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. Mace Sinclair remained the same cold, unrelenting man he had always been. The sparks of animosity still smoldered between them. Nysaa couldn't help but burst into uncontrollable laughter at Mace's cold and dismissive words. Her laughter was hysterical, almost maniacal, as if the absurdity of the situation had finally dawned on her. It was an abrupt shift in her drunken demeanor, and she pouted like a child who had been denied a toy. In her inebriated state, she reached out, as if attempting to touch Mace's cheeks, but the ice-cold glare from him made her retract her hand. She co