Why am I even here? [emily]

Stevie raises her pierced brow, displaying no expression. The girl leans back on a random pole, using it as her only support. She's not even completely sure how she winded up here. Watching random guys waste away their lives playing dumb old sports was never her thing--not even now. She just finds pleasure in their arrogance.

She listens to the voices of her victims, nodding for effect. She allows them to haunt the skunk-smelling sweaty teenage boys for once.

No one stands in Stephanie's way.

"I see dead people." she deadpans, "They like messing with brainless hormonal boys." Stevie notions at the one boy trying to reach the floating basketball. She was just as Stevie suspected: a ditzy, hormonal, obsessive teenage girl. Stevie only has had one boyfriend and that relationship lasted for four years. Since twelve. That all ended two months ago--when she found him in the back of his car with a random girl whom he had apparently done this for ongoing months. She never spoke to him again.

"Stephanie Taylor, Melinoe." her eyebrows cringe at her first name, "This kid had mocked me, so I cut that b--ch. I went to juvie." she smiles in innocence. She wrinkles her nose, remembering the day perfectly. Stevie, here, is a killer. Something about her screwed up, causing her to find pleasure in her pain and everyone else's. Suddenly changing the topic from her murderous adventures, she shrugs, "Let's be best friends." she sounds like a kindergartener, picking out her friends, like food, "that way I have no reason to hurt you." If this girl thought 'seeing dead people' was sweet, then why turn a friendship down? Stevie offers her pinkie finger, still a fan of that one promise. It's terrible when someone breaks pinkie promises.

"Oh?" she squints her eyes in confusion, "That b--ch was a boy." she informs, squeezing the girl's pinkie as it locks in hers. She listens (really, she does) to Lauren's story with interest, chuckling along with her. Stevie nods, adding, "Did he forget?"