Under My Skin

(Introduction)1

When people talk about the skeletons in their closet, they're not actually referring to bones. It's a common enough phrase, and people seem to use it everyday. But what they fail to realize is that when I use the term, I do mean it literally. Killing is what I do – it's kind of my trade. Now I'm not saying that I store the bodies in my closet, that would certainly be incriminating, but if the dead and buried could talk, they would have a lot to say about me. I mean, let's face it, I put most of them there. Men, women and children alike, all dead so that I could keep on living. No, I'm not a vampire, so don't even ask. I'm a Skin Walker, using other people's identities and faces to go about my regular business. So naturally, I have to kill the originals. Designing car accidents and tragedies aren't easy in today's society either, so give me some credit. I'm the best at what I do, but I'm not the first. No matter what it takes, I will find the one who did this to me, I don't care how many rotten humans I have to kill. Most people of this day and age would call me a monster. Others call me Flame. 2

I admit, I do feel a pang of guilt every time I have to murder again, but I only stick to killing criminals, the ones not even the police have taken into custody. The younger the body, the fresher it stays, but even so, a child's body will still rot away in about a year or two. 3

I found a child's body once, after walking into an alleyway mugging. I was grateful that they didn't need to be killed. By the looks of her, she had to be an orphan living off the streets. I didn't particularly enjoy taking on the form of children - since my vocabulary never seemed to match my age - but adult figures can waste away in a couple of days. So if you stumble across a diamond amongst a sea of coal, you naturally have to take it. 4

In my eight hundred years of existence, I have killed many children. Thousands of them wounded or screaming for death to take them, and I have no choice but to oblige. If a youngling longs for death that badly, at least I can help them whilst helping myself. 5

I hate having to become a female though, it just feels unnatural to me. So yes, once upon a time I was a boy, a human male just like all the rest. I had brown hair with a slight reddish hue and my eyes were a bright, emerald green, but often changed in certain light. I was your average, every day boy with the usual dramas, hopes and dreams and the phrase a 'closet full of skeletons,' to me, only meant you were hiding a secret, not your own appearance. I was your average height, thin and reasonable fit. I was common and would give anything to go back to that. But that's all in the past now. I doubt my own family wouldn't even recognize me. Worse still, if heaven does exist and they made it there, I know I won't be joining them. There's never been a happy ending for the beast of the story and murderous or tainted souls, are always sent to damnation. Once upon a time, I may well have gotten eternal bliss but the trouble with hunting for blood is, you're almost guaranteed to find it.