The rumour trail in the crowd was no longer just whispers.

“Hey! Isn’t that the Banshee?” a rich Al Tehari lady from the elite class who had paid her way onto the ship said, recognising Shae.

“Nah, I heard she died in prison,” someone else yelled back.

“Really? The Banshee? Didn’t she take out half of the king’s private guard?”

“Look! She has the red eyes, silver hair and those pointy ears.”

Upon hearing this, Shae immediately put her hood back up. It had fallen down during the fight, revealing her curly silver hair and numerous helix ear piercings. She began to walk away from the accusing voices, but they surrounded her from the crowd. “I’m not the Banshee,” she denied.

“You terrorists killed my brother,” someone shouted. He was also from Al Tehar, and was dressed luxuriously in gold.

“My cousin too!”

A real mob of angry Al Teharis was growing, and it was getting out of control.

Shae looked for an opening in the crowd, but the accusers had made their way to the front, encircling her and Felix.

“Where do you’re going, huh?” a beefy-looking Al Tehari man pumped his knuckles into his palm. “Who’s going to pay for our losses, Banshee?”

“I said, you have the wrong person,” Shae repeated.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Felix was back on his feet.

“I don’t need your help,” Shae muttered through gritted teeth.

“Would you just shut up for a second,” Felix roared.

The group of eight Al Tehari men closed in menacingly. “We just need to check if you’re the Banshee.”

Felix cautioned them from making a move. “You guys take one step and I’ll be the one to pummel your brains out of your thick skulls.”

“I said, I don’t. Need. Your. Help.” Shae insisted. This was not Felix’s fight, and here again he was.

“I’m not doing this for you,” Felix said to Shae. “I’m trying to save these idiots with tickets because they don’t know who they’re dealing with. I know how strong you are. You survived the elimination.” He said it loudly enough for the men to overhear.

There was truth to it. One of the more timid men in the group spoke up. “Hey, remember these guys are fighting in the tournament... I think we should get out of here.” A few others piped up in agreement.

“Yeah, I have bets on one of them.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’m not here to be in the tournament myself.”

The mood deflated, the goons began to disperse. One of them, the burly guy, eyed Shae up and down one last time acidly before leaving. Shae looked away.

Rummaging in her pocket, Shae found another cigarette and lit up. So much for fresh air, she inhaled in a long drag.

Felix couldn’t believe how the tables had turned so quickly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Shae gave him a warning look. “Stay away from me. I did kill all those people.”

Felix was silent for a while, searching for the right words to say, and stammered. “It’s fine even if you’ve killed people…”

Shae rolled her eyes.

Dart was slurping both of the mocha frappuccinos. “I thought you were doing great” he switched his voice to mimic Felix. “It’s fine if you’ve killed people!” He chortled with laughter, clutching his stomach.

“You really are a little bitch,” Felix snapped. “Give me that, Cart!” He snatched away one of the mocha frappuccinos.

***

Shae found a quiet corner to sit down in the shade. Her heart was still pounding from when the goons had ganged up and outed her. It reminded her of the day that she had been captured and thrown in prison. An unfair fight.

But her head was clear. Felix’s words echoed in her head. “It’s fine even if you’ve killed people…” his voice replayed over and over.

Nobody’s hands are clean here.

She turned over her hands and looked at her palms.

She was a killer. That’s what she did, and that’s what she does.

***

“Damnit! I’m such a klutz,” the blonde girl muttered to herself. She tried to rub her lipstick stain off the top that she had just put on. “You girls go ahead to the bar first, I’ll catch up!” She told her friends.

“Come on! The really cute guy we met at the ice rink will be there too!” Her friends flounced out of her cabin.

She looked down at her clothes. “Well that’s one ruined outfit. What am I going to wear now?!” she moaned aloud. There was already a mountain of discarded outfits on her bed as she had tried to find the perfect party outfit. Her tiny cabin wardrobe was nearly empty as it is, and she reluctantly pulled out one of the last remaining clothing pieces.

It was a short old-fashioned dress with a lace peter pan collar. Slipping it over her head easily, she touched the fabric, which was worn with age. It might have been her mother’s at some point, but the vintage style was definitely back in vogue.

“I might actually wear this…” she purred as she checked out her reflection in the mirror. She leaned forward and checked her lipstick again.

“You should,” a voice came from behind her. “Your smile is so pure.”

“Aww, thanks!” the girl responded automatically. A split second later, her brain processed the fact that she was alone in her room. Her friends had left ages ago.

Turning slowly, she only had a few seconds’ glimpse of her attacker: a giant baby head. The killer was wearing a monstrous fake mask, crudely assembled for maximum horror effect. One was a fake glass eye, and the other was a hole for the killer’s own blinking eye. Across the baby head’s lips were stitches.

Then, all she saw was just blood.

Her mouth was frozen. She couldn’t scream.

Blood smeared all over the furniture.

“That smile…” the baby giggled at his handicraft. “I don’t want it to go away.”

“Yes, it won’t go away.” The baby tore open the dress and pulled out some intestines, as if they were playthings. He smeared some of the blood on the table. It was sticky.

“Yes, it won’t go away.” The baby yanked at the limp, lifeless body’s hair as he carved the head with his knife.

“Pretty smile.” The baby patted his treasure.