Fast Writing:

I sat above the window I had just slipped through and slowly closed it. My hands and feet moved
quickly across the walls of the room and up onto the ceiling before dropping to the floor. Slowly I
slipped out of the costume mask and started to pull off m-

“Omg! You’re Spiderman!”

My head whipped around to stare in horror at my uncle who was standing in the doorway to my
room with wide hands. I frantically removed the rest of my costume while practically screaming,
“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Hah!”

“Dammnit!”

My uncle stared at me with hard eyes before very deliberately stating, “You just crawled through an
open window and across the walls. I’m pretty sure you’re Spiderman!”

I stared him in the eye straight back and told him, “Yeah but Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive
Spider,” My uncle raised his eyebrow as I continued to stare him straight in the face as a I
deadpanned, “I was bitten by a radioactive Gecko.”

“Do you know why I hate her?” I questioned the man in front of me. He was screaming incoherently
around the gag in his mouth as his hands pulled against the restraints that kept him safely away
from me. I didn’t want him near me. The last time he got too close he tried to break my neck.

I was lucky I could restrain him to keep myself safe.

“I take it you don’t.” I answered for him. Again, he had a gag. And at this point probably a sore throat
too. I don’t know why he keeps screaming though. We are too far away from anyone else for them
to hear us and its really hurting my ears.

“I hate her because she abused me. She hurt me with the name calling, and the manipulation, and
the hatred.” He was glaring at me from the metal chair I had stuck him in. Good for him.

“She bought me this empty house you know. Said I was dangerous, and she thought it was better I
was away from society. How cruel is that?” He was drooling around the gag and it honestly gross.

“She’s a villain. Pure and simple. A villain.” I stared at him. I didn’t want to kill him. Only villains kill.
But he worked for her so I guess he was evil too. So I guess it was fine if I killed him. I’m a hero if I kill
the villain aren’t I? That’s what all the heros do. Kill the villain? So why am I any different?
A garage door shrieked as it inched open.

I rushed out of my room to put everything into place. Phone on the counter, computer on the table,
door shut.

Everything wasn’t in place. I still had my phone, and the door was open.

The sound of a car pulling in before the engine clicked off resounded through the house.

I turned off the light and leaned against the door.

I was lying on my bed with the light on and a smile on my face.

Giggles echoed down the corridor, free and uninhibited.

Louder giggles, brighter lights, heavier footsteps.

The giggles stopped outside my door, and I could feel the knocking as much as I could hear it.

I stayed quiet, pretended to be asleep.

They walked in and I could see the moment they realised I wasn’t supposed to be awake.

“Maybe she’s asleep.”

“You should be asleep.”

“We should probably leave.”

“Why don’t we help you go to sleep.”

The footsteps continued down the corridor and the giggles faded with the tension in my body.

They walked closer and my body tensed. They weren’t going to leave.

Do you ever think about pets? The concept of them I mean. They are animals that we give a home,
and we care for and feed. We take care of them, and they love us for it. We pet them and clean
them and keep them safe from the outside world. People praise you for looking after your pet well.
People think it’s a kind thing to do, keeping a pet that is.

So why can’t I do that with humans? Why can’t I keep a human in my house and make them rely on
me. I’ll be the one to feed them, to decide if they go outside, and I’ll be the one to make them look
pretty. They’ll be dependent on me but that’s ok. After all I’m just keeping them safe. Besides,
humans are just animals aren’t they.
A romantic. That’s what Elizabeth calls herself. A romantic. That’s not what I’d call her. If I was being
positive, I’d call her wishful. Sometimes I want to call her naïve.

The judgment. I can see it in her eyes when I marry Mr. Collins. She thinks I’m a fool for marrying
someone so pompous and inadequate in her eyes. Like I had a choice. It was, after all, the only way
I’d get my happy ending in this story. In Elizabeth’s happily ever after.

The understanding. I can tell that Elizabeth doesn’t quite understand why I married him. That’s ok.
One can never truly understand another person. Can never step into their skin and be them. To do
so would be like entering into one’s soul, defiling it, taking it as ones own. Even now you’re reading
my story but all you can think is This is a side story from Charlotte’s view in pride and prejudice. Side
story. That’s all I am to aren’t I. A side character. I don’t matter. Because to you I’m not real. That’s
ok. I don’t even know who you are so to me you are irrelevant as well.

Dear John,

I am sure that as I write this you have already figured out what has happened. If you have not, then
perhaps that just proves further why it has happened. Do not take offense from this and understand
that it was never meant to last. You were kind to me and lavished me with gifts, but I refuse to be
held as a possession to satisfy your greed.

To placate your mind allow me to state the truth here. I am leaving you and I am not coming back. I
have fallen in love with the carriage driver for he has also fallen in love with me, as a human and not
a prize.

I must thank you for the gifts you once gave me for I have taken them and shall sell them to help us
earn our living.

We are travelling to Scotland, and I must ask that you do not follow us or I will have to set the
brutish man that we have picked up on our travels thus far. We found him by the side of the road
and he has agreed to keep us safe in return for allowing him to travel with us. We have also picked
up a young girl named Mary who was abandoned.

This is my family now and they treat me like the person I am.

Farewell John,

Angelica