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The Private Diaries of Antoinette
by Guest Sat Mar 21, 2009 3:32 am
Heart of a Lion
My Dad, god bless him, always used to tell me stories of how our family could trace our ancestors back to the Plantagenets. To Richard the Lionheart, who ruled England and much of France, from whom we take our family name. It was a cute story, and I loved it as a little girl; kings, knights in shining armor and princesses to be saved. But the story got much darker when I learned the Plantagenets were said to have descended from the Devil. Now that my fate has been sealed, I wonder if my name is self-prophesizing, and I’ve always been simply another daughter of the Devil, waiting to be recognized.
August 2004
It’s been 5 months now since my parents’ accident. At the beginning I haunted this place like a ghost. Hovering from one room to another. The servants helped me pack up the stuff I couldn’t bear to look at. Clothes, pictures, jewelry. ‘Personal effects’, they called them. All in storage now. I just can’t deal.
5 months hasn’t dulled the grief yet, though. When the servants leave at night, panic sets in. I can’t stand to be in this house by myself. I head for one of the local clubs, and escape into another world where my pain and loss don’t exist. At first I drank too much. Then I moved to drugs. A guy named Ace started hooking me up with smack. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot it – I kept seeing my dead mother, reminding me of the countless charity events we had attended for drug prevention. So I’ve been snorting it instead. I mean, at least I’m just snorting it, right?
It seems like I spend all my nights in the club bathroom now, intermittently puking my guts up, then sitting on the floor in the stall going on the nod. It mostly makes me feel like shit, but the escape is nice. As if I cease to exist, along with all my pain. And at least I’m around people. Not alone in that house.
But the smack’s dried up now. Rumor on the street is Ace managed to kill some junkie and went into hiding. It’s like a sign or something. I mean, I’m hurting, but I’m no junkie. And I don’t want to die. So I just quit. Who wants to be puking all the time anyway?
January 2005
After I got my head clear, I realized I need something to focus on. And it came to me as if I should have known all along. My clothes. My ideas for clothes. Christ, the idea had been beating my head against a wall for years and I just never listened… “Lash” grew from the ashes of the death around me. I couldn’t bring my parents back, but I could give birth to something I could nurture and grow. It made perfect sense. I was already making all my own clothes anyway – I always had, as there’s never anything cool in this god-forsaken town. So it was a natural progression. Lash took off like a wildfire. It was almost scary.
June 2005
Word’s getting around fast about the line, and suddenly I’m a minor celebrity in Sacramento. I mean, I always was because of my parents. But now it’s getting harder to lay low. So I’m trying to think like my father and use the media to further my business ventures. It’s almost too easy when you do it right. Lash continues to rage, and now I’m setting my sights on Fashion Week in NY and next stop, Paris. Eventually I’ll have both a couture line and a ready-to-wear line. It’s going to be off the hook!
August 2005
It’s the weirdest thing. I’m still checking out the clubs here locally, when I’m not in NY or across the pond studying other designers or just being inspired. But I get the strangest sensation when I’m out. Like I’m being watched. So stupid. Like I watch too many scary movies or something. That’s what my Dad would tell me, if he were around. I never actually see anyone suspicious. And… who knows; we’re out meeting tons of guys anyway. Especially at Asylum – there’s never a shortage of freaks that will buy you anything if you’ll smack them around a bit. But this is different. Like I’m being watched by things I can’t see.
September 2005
I met this guy! Not a freak. Like a “real” guy. OMG, he’s so cool. I mean, seriously cool. So different from the rest of the guys in this lame city. It’s not like he’s drooling all over me either – he’s really sophisticated, and smart, and talented, and sort of aloof. Like it’s some big challenge for me to try to get his attention or something. How did this happen? I don’t know, but I don’t care. I like it. I love that feeling of the hunt. Quinton – that’s his name, isn’t it so cute? Quinton must be 10 years older than me, and he seems to know everything about everything! About business and the world and, well, life. I know he could give me advice about Lash. Oh… and this is going to sound so incredibly lame, but, I was thinking, I mean, what if we got married? God! I’m lame! So lame. Lame, lame, lame! But he’s really cute. And he’s already got all kinds of money and estates and stuff. So I know he isn’t hanging around me for my inheritance. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people. People suck.
October 2005
Quinton and I seem to be getting a lot closer. OK, I can’t lie. I am completely in awe of him. I don’t know how that happened, but seriously I could just jump off a cliff if he ever left me. I swear, if my friends read this, they’d have me committed! WTF. I hardly know him. We haven’t had sex or anything. He says he’s “protecting my virtue”… he’s kind of old fashion. I guess? But, we’ve done other things. Pretty freaky things, actually. And trust me, I’ve done some pretty freaky things in my time. When he’s kissing me, and I think we’re actually, finally, going to knock it out, he’ll bite me. Seriously bite me. Hard. Like, sinks his sharp teeth down through my skin and just takes me in. But dude, it’s the weirdest thing. It feels so fucking good. And then, he’ll bite his tongue while he’s kissing me, and I can feel his blood rush into me. It’s so good. I always feel so fucking good afterwards. We’ve only done it a couple times. Well, alright, maybe 4? 5? I mean, everybody’s got their thing, right? I’d so love to have sex with him, but I’m so head-over-heals in love with him, I don’t care. He could do anything to me at this point. I’m so his. Seriously, if any of my friends ever saw this, they’d give me SO much shit, but I cannot help myself. It’s like I’m under a spell… What the hell is wrong with me?
November 2005
So, Quinton tripped on me hard today. I’m not even sure how to say this here and keep a straight face. Not that I’m laughing. OK, I just have to say it. He offered me eternal life. I feel like I’m in a movie or something. He showed me a few things that made me believe what he was telling me was true. I can’t believe I’m writing this down. It can’t really be true… He also explained I was bonded to him and separation would be very painful for me if I decided to leave. Yeah right. But deep down, I know he’s totally telling me the truth. I can already feel the pain when he’s away from me, even for a short time.
He made me a pretty good deal; eternal life (not too shabby), help taking Lash to the top, membership and the protection of this covenant thingy called the “Invictus”. I guess it’s kind of like belonging to the Chamber of Commerce, or maybe like my Dad’s yacht club. It’s very powerful and will support me with Lash and whatever I need.
Of course, if I do this, I have to make a few promises on my side, like learning the ropes of this exclusive country club. Maybe it’s more like a Fraternity House because it sounded like there might be some hazing involved. I would have to promise to treat Quinton with the utmost respect at all times (like I don’t already) and do absolutely everything he asks of me (he seemed really serious about that part) and if I should mess anything up, there would probably be some consequences. He was a little vague on this part, even when I pressed him for details. Well, what – I might get sent to the corner or something? OK… I guess I can handle that. Quinton wouldn’t let anything really bad happen to me.
If I refuse to be embraced into his world, I will lose it all, including Quinton. I can’t lose him – I’ve become way too attached to him. I really do think I love him, in some strange way. Even though in the last week he’s shown me a different side of him. It’s dark and brooding and powerful. And pretty much terrifying. I get the impression he simply figures out what he wants and then takes it. Was I part of that plan? Except I’m getting something out of this, right?
***
Anyway, if you are reading my diary here, I guess you already know what I decided. After all, nothing scares me. I have the heart of a Lion. And, it turns out; I truly am the spawn of the Devil…
My Dad, god bless him, always used to tell me stories of how our family could trace our ancestors back to the Plantagenets. To Richard the Lionheart, who ruled England and much of France, from whom we take our family name. It was a cute story, and I loved it as a little girl; kings, knights in shining armor and princesses to be saved. But the story got much darker when I learned the Plantagenets were said to have descended from the Devil. Now that my fate has been sealed, I wonder if my name is self-prophesizing, and I’ve always been simply another daughter of the Devil, waiting to be recognized.
August 2004
It’s been 5 months now since my parents’ accident. At the beginning I haunted this place like a ghost. Hovering from one room to another. The servants helped me pack up the stuff I couldn’t bear to look at. Clothes, pictures, jewelry. ‘Personal effects’, they called them. All in storage now. I just can’t deal.
5 months hasn’t dulled the grief yet, though. When the servants leave at night, panic sets in. I can’t stand to be in this house by myself. I head for one of the local clubs, and escape into another world where my pain and loss don’t exist. At first I drank too much. Then I moved to drugs. A guy named Ace started hooking me up with smack. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot it – I kept seeing my dead mother, reminding me of the countless charity events we had attended for drug prevention. So I’ve been snorting it instead. I mean, at least I’m just snorting it, right?
It seems like I spend all my nights in the club bathroom now, intermittently puking my guts up, then sitting on the floor in the stall going on the nod. It mostly makes me feel like shit, but the escape is nice. As if I cease to exist, along with all my pain. And at least I’m around people. Not alone in that house.
But the smack’s dried up now. Rumor on the street is Ace managed to kill some junkie and went into hiding. It’s like a sign or something. I mean, I’m hurting, but I’m no junkie. And I don’t want to die. So I just quit. Who wants to be puking all the time anyway?
January 2005
After I got my head clear, I realized I need something to focus on. And it came to me as if I should have known all along. My clothes. My ideas for clothes. Christ, the idea had been beating my head against a wall for years and I just never listened… “Lash” grew from the ashes of the death around me. I couldn’t bring my parents back, but I could give birth to something I could nurture and grow. It made perfect sense. I was already making all my own clothes anyway – I always had, as there’s never anything cool in this god-forsaken town. So it was a natural progression. Lash took off like a wildfire. It was almost scary.
June 2005
Word’s getting around fast about the line, and suddenly I’m a minor celebrity in Sacramento. I mean, I always was because of my parents. But now it’s getting harder to lay low. So I’m trying to think like my father and use the media to further my business ventures. It’s almost too easy when you do it right. Lash continues to rage, and now I’m setting my sights on Fashion Week in NY and next stop, Paris. Eventually I’ll have both a couture line and a ready-to-wear line. It’s going to be off the hook!
August 2005
It’s the weirdest thing. I’m still checking out the clubs here locally, when I’m not in NY or across the pond studying other designers or just being inspired. But I get the strangest sensation when I’m out. Like I’m being watched. So stupid. Like I watch too many scary movies or something. That’s what my Dad would tell me, if he were around. I never actually see anyone suspicious. And… who knows; we’re out meeting tons of guys anyway. Especially at Asylum – there’s never a shortage of freaks that will buy you anything if you’ll smack them around a bit. But this is different. Like I’m being watched by things I can’t see.
September 2005
I met this guy! Not a freak. Like a “real” guy. OMG, he’s so cool. I mean, seriously cool. So different from the rest of the guys in this lame city. It’s not like he’s drooling all over me either – he’s really sophisticated, and smart, and talented, and sort of aloof. Like it’s some big challenge for me to try to get his attention or something. How did this happen? I don’t know, but I don’t care. I like it. I love that feeling of the hunt. Quinton – that’s his name, isn’t it so cute? Quinton must be 10 years older than me, and he seems to know everything about everything! About business and the world and, well, life. I know he could give me advice about Lash. Oh… and this is going to sound so incredibly lame, but, I was thinking, I mean, what if we got married? God! I’m lame! So lame. Lame, lame, lame! But he’s really cute. And he’s already got all kinds of money and estates and stuff. So I know he isn’t hanging around me for my inheritance. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people. People suck.
October 2005
Quinton and I seem to be getting a lot closer. OK, I can’t lie. I am completely in awe of him. I don’t know how that happened, but seriously I could just jump off a cliff if he ever left me. I swear, if my friends read this, they’d have me committed! WTF. I hardly know him. We haven’t had sex or anything. He says he’s “protecting my virtue”… he’s kind of old fashion. I guess? But, we’ve done other things. Pretty freaky things, actually. And trust me, I’ve done some pretty freaky things in my time. When he’s kissing me, and I think we’re actually, finally, going to knock it out, he’ll bite me. Seriously bite me. Hard. Like, sinks his sharp teeth down through my skin and just takes me in. But dude, it’s the weirdest thing. It feels so fucking good. And then, he’ll bite his tongue while he’s kissing me, and I can feel his blood rush into me. It’s so good. I always feel so fucking good afterwards. We’ve only done it a couple times. Well, alright, maybe 4? 5? I mean, everybody’s got their thing, right? I’d so love to have sex with him, but I’m so head-over-heals in love with him, I don’t care. He could do anything to me at this point. I’m so his. Seriously, if any of my friends ever saw this, they’d give me SO much shit, but I cannot help myself. It’s like I’m under a spell… What the hell is wrong with me?
November 2005
So, Quinton tripped on me hard today. I’m not even sure how to say this here and keep a straight face. Not that I’m laughing. OK, I just have to say it. He offered me eternal life. I feel like I’m in a movie or something. He showed me a few things that made me believe what he was telling me was true. I can’t believe I’m writing this down. It can’t really be true… He also explained I was bonded to him and separation would be very painful for me if I decided to leave. Yeah right. But deep down, I know he’s totally telling me the truth. I can already feel the pain when he’s away from me, even for a short time.
He made me a pretty good deal; eternal life (not too shabby), help taking Lash to the top, membership and the protection of this covenant thingy called the “Invictus”. I guess it’s kind of like belonging to the Chamber of Commerce, or maybe like my Dad’s yacht club. It’s very powerful and will support me with Lash and whatever I need.
Of course, if I do this, I have to make a few promises on my side, like learning the ropes of this exclusive country club. Maybe it’s more like a Fraternity House because it sounded like there might be some hazing involved. I would have to promise to treat Quinton with the utmost respect at all times (like I don’t already) and do absolutely everything he asks of me (he seemed really serious about that part) and if I should mess anything up, there would probably be some consequences. He was a little vague on this part, even when I pressed him for details. Well, what – I might get sent to the corner or something? OK… I guess I can handle that. Quinton wouldn’t let anything really bad happen to me.
If I refuse to be embraced into his world, I will lose it all, including Quinton. I can’t lose him – I’ve become way too attached to him. I really do think I love him, in some strange way. Even though in the last week he’s shown me a different side of him. It’s dark and brooding and powerful. And pretty much terrifying. I get the impression he simply figures out what he wants and then takes it. Was I part of that plan? Except I’m getting something out of this, right?
***
Anyway, if you are reading my diary here, I guess you already know what I decided. After all, nothing scares me. I have the heart of a Lion. And, it turns out; I truly am the spawn of the Devil…
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