Disclaimer: the writing below has mentions of murder, crimes, and demons. Discretion is advised.
It wasn’t his fault, not really. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
“What am I going to do with all of these bodies?” He thinks, irritated.
All he had wanted was a study group. That’s a normal college thing, right? Somehow, he had ended up in the woods in the dead of night with four burnt bodies and a shovel.
“Uggghhh-,” One of them was still alive, apparently.
He hit the moaning figure hard with his shovel.
It was all over a simple physics test. Then that one IDIOTIC kid had to bring up his fake story about his mother’s death after some disagreement about Newton. He thinks. It’s hard to remember what happens after his true form comes out.
All he knows is that he’s doing the world he’s supposed to haunt a favor.
“Tell me again, Wrath, what happened,” asked Pride. She was clutching her dark forhead like it was aching.
“I told you, I got rid of a few classmates. They were useless anyway, Peggy,” Pride shuddered at the use of her pseudonym, “We have aliases for a reason,” added Wrath.
“Whatever, Wesley. What part of don’t draw attention do you not understand?! We’re supposed to be observing, not interfering. Yet,” said Peggy.
“We are demons, it’s to be expected,” Was Wesley’s uninterested statement.
“She’s right, Wes. Killing people over an arguement about a mother you don’t have isn’t exactly incognito,” Vanity, or Vic, interjected. He poked a perfectly manicured finger into Wesley’s chest. Peggy smirked, drawing herself up.
Wesley shrugged, more interested in the stain in his tan coat then the conversation.
“Whatever. When will the rest get here?” Wesley asked, mostly to change topic.
“Gluttony and sloth are due tomorrow, though I doubt Stan will be on time,” Vic answered, examining his figure in the mirror on the shelf next to the chair he was sitting in.
“Gluttony’s going to be here tonight. There’s a sweet shop opening downtown, and I doubt that he’d miss that. Idiot’s going to blow all of our funds on food,” Grumbled Peggy, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to go to.”
With that Peggy stood up, grabbed her books bag, and struted out of the library.
Idiots, the lot of them,” Peggy mumbled to herself. Her classmates had just tried to argue with the teacher about what exactly Benedict Arnold’s motive to defect from the Colonies to the British was.
Spotting one of her comrades coming towards her out of the corner of her eye, she turned as he caught up to her.
He was a tall, pale man with glasses and dark hair. It looked like the last time he had seen the sun was three years ago.
“Hello Peggy,” Luther said,”How are you on this fine afternoon?”
“I’m fine, Luther. When did you get here?” Peggy asked.
“I got here just this afternoon. I came early to spend more time with you. The polite thing to do would be to ask me how my trip was,” Luther replied, looking expectant.
Peggy rolled her eyes, “I’m not going to humor you today. I have schoolwork to do,” She stated, readjusting her bookbag.
“Well, I should’ve expected that, from an intellectual like me. Where are the others? I need to talk with Vic about something,” He asked.
“Third floor of the badger dorm. Don’t get into a fight, we don’t need another incident,” Peggy warned.
“I am a pacifist, Peggy. I would never get into a fight.”
Luther walks away, staring at all the girls he passes.