Page 6 of Twisted Diaries of a Monster Groupie

Dear Diary,

Punk Rock dancing queen meets sexy tattooed bad boy. Do I bring a rope or my eyeliner? Spoiler alert, I packed both.

XOXO – Roxy

After a call home to check on her cohabitants, Roxy made a quick stop by a local thrift shop earlier that day for her date. She had settled in her hotel room stitching together the perfect dress for the party, thinking over the possibility that she may not have to kidnap him if she could just win over his heart. Maybe it was a little delusional to believe he’d want anything more than a quickie and a handshake, but she still held hope.

A few stitched together thrift shop finds and she was well on her way to looking like a punk rock prom queen. Scream-A- Con events were known for guests to go all out, so she was going to pull together the perfect ball gown fit for a night on the town with her monster heartthrob. With a little creative special FX makeup, she even finished a few faux laced-up flesh embellishments on her neck for the complete Bride of Acid-Stein look.

Wearing a black corset with hot pink embellishment that lifted her ample breasts and cinched at the waist, she even added a few pink spikes for effect. From her costume wardrobe bag, she added a black tulle flirty-and-fabulous mini skirt at the front that led to a dramatic floor-length ruffled train that swept the floor as she walked. A garter belt with a cute pink skull bow showed underneath matching her favorite exaggerated stilettos with matching skull heels. She looked as deadly sexy as they came.

After she pulled on a pair of leather, fingerless driving gloves to finish off the look, she touched the corner of her pout to check her black-painted lips in the mirror. A devilish smirk showed she knew she looked good. The ensemble was sure to knock Acid off his feet.

After some primping Roxy made her way to the party with no trouble at all at the door, just as her awaiting lover promised.

As soon as she stepped into the grand ballroom, she could feel the stares of judging eyes roaming over her punk-inspired ball gown. She didn’t care. She never did. Truth be told she was accustomed to being the odd girl out, and she liked it that way. Normal was boring and anarchy was her spice of life. She would relish in the idea of making others at the party uncomfortable and celebrating it with a poison appletini and a smile.

From celebrities to superfans, it was obvious that those in attendance had more money than smarts for judging her the way they were. It was the biggest horror convention to date for gosh sake. Where was the mayhem and madness that made the weekend festivities such a draw? Nope, there was none of the gore and glam tonight. Everyone was dressed to the nines in formal attire right out of the social pages and she questioned if this was Scream-A-Con or the Met Gala.

The average Joe convention attendees were downstairs at the hotel bar drinking it up and having the time of their life while these snobs were sipping chardonnay and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous of the horror community. She almost envied the poor souls downstairs by the looks of this snooze fest.

Of course, the commoners would get their chance to wow the masses at the costume party on night two, which was open to everyone. That was the night she enjoyed most anyway, getting the chance to dress up in her best horror garb and dance the night away. This year her costume choice would honor her father in a couture mad scientist ensemble that only she would understand the true irony of. But tonight, she was a grunge goddess in black making heads turn. Maybe not attention in the best of ways, but turn, nonetheless.

Her punk rock ball gown was clearly a statement compared to the women who were eyeballing her as they passed like she was trash. The moment she walked through the double doors, eyes followed her, whispers stirring like the gossip game she remembered from her childhood. She even found herself raising clawed hands and making crazy faces at a woman who looked revolted at the sight of her just for fun. She almost burst out laughing when a lady screamed and ran behind her husband for protection.

None of that mattered when she spotted Acid across the room looking dashing as ever in a black suit with a signature neon green tie that made his yellowish eyes stand out like the god of the underworld. He was downright gorgeous and every woman in the place had eyes on him.

He was standing with a group who all sported various unnatural hues to their skin, much like the ghoulish dreamboat himself. Obviously, they were her father’s creations, but sadly, the man who made such pieces of fine art was alone in a jail cell instead of being the highlight of such a prestigious affair. Art they were—each as a hauntingly glorious display of the walking dead at the next. Only Acid had the rare green shade that gave him a little something extra. Each creature was a rare and intimidating specimen in its own right, but their gray skins didn’t seem to pop the way he did.

The elite of Frank-n-creation stood in the circle, and she felt like she was honored to be in the presence of such scientific wonder. Just by watching them, she felt unworthy.

On the movie screen, or in a theoretical study was one thing, but these were living breathing monsters. She was sure she’d have to change her panties before the night was over because of the wetness that had settled at her core due to how deliciously stunning the men in the group were.

“Fuck, they’re all gorgeous,” she muttered to herself. “Even the women.”

The CEO of Flesh Inc. stood out the most. The monster porn producer and sex toy mogul was tall and muscular, his eyes glowing a sickly shade of white. Another had long, dark hair that draped over his shoulders, equally as handsome as the one before. Roxy knew him as one of her favorite pro wrestlers. He took the industry by storm as soon as he was rolled out of the lab.

Lastly was a Frank-n-woman snuggled up to the sports entertainer in a fetish dress so tight-fitting it was a wonder she could breathe. It made Roxy a little jealous that she wasn’t her because no one seemed to care she was dressed to kill. The woman was her fashion icon after all. Known for her status in the beauty industry for making fashion much like Roxy’s signature modernized punk attire, Kiki Devine was the epitome of modern thrash metal fashion. When she looked over with a raised brow, Kiki tipped her champagne flute in her direction with an approving smile, making her stand a little taller.

They were each horrifying, yet something was captivating about their presence. Despite the horrific pomp and circumstance surrounding them, they exuded raw power. Everyone knew they could tear down the entire room at any moment, yet they held themselves in a higher regard with grace and ease.

Roxy couldn’t turn her eyes away as she smiled inside, knowing that she was behind their creation. The one thing that was of great misconception in Frank-n-creation lore was that men of the science would carry an oddly shaped flat head, much like in stories that spanned decades. Roxy being well-versed in the dynamics of it, knew it was unnecessary to make such an alteration. Especially if the doctors were to preserve their natural state like these glorious creatures kept.

It was only Acid who used any Frankenstein-like prosthetics to look that way. Although he only wore them for films that needed something more traditional. Once he was free of the special FX he was a sight to behold, far separated from the old horror flicks ghastly image of their kind.

As she stood gawking at the handsome man, Acid looked her way, his yellowish eyes locking onto hers. A slow, almost predatory grin spread across his face as he excused himself from his group and made his way toward his prey with long strides.

The world seemed to blur around her, and the sounds of the party faded into nothing as he approached. She felt the familiar quickening of her pulse, her body reacting before her tainted mind could catch up.

“Aren’t you looking dangerous tonight, dollface? You know you’re making me have to work for it. I don’t like other men looking at what’s mine and I’d hate to have to start a riot.”

Roxy tilted her head to the side, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she fidgeted with the tulle skirt. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I should have tried to fit in more.”

“Not at all. Normal’s boring,” a statement reflecting her own vantage point as eyes roamed over her body. Taking in the corset, spikes, and stilettos, he licked his lips with a coy grin. “Besides, my friend Kiki was impressed. I must agree. You’re a showstopper. By the time she spreads theword everyone in the fashion world will be trying to mimic your style.”

“Everyone’s staring at me.”

“Let them. You certainly know how to stand out, that’s for sure. But you know what? I think the women with prying eyes wish they were as bold. There hasn’t been a lady in this place that’s caught my attention until you walked in the door.” His gaze traced over to the others in the room and back to her, the smirk never leaving his naughty lips. “Boring bottom feeders. Nothing more.”

She chuckled, her fingers brushing through the fabric of her dress. “Let them eat their hearts out then.”

“Spoken like a true scream queen. You don’t belong with the rest of these mindless zombies,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing her ear. “You’re too… alive .”

The words sent a shiver down her spine. For a second, she imagined what it would be like to be with him in front of the whole crowd. Two horror icons, slashing their way to legendary status. The intrusive images hit her all at once; visions of a psychopathic Sid & Nancy moment that would send fear to the common man. Acid in a dark spray-painted tuxedo with glowing green accents, her in a blood-streaked wedding dress, standing together in the middle of crimson chaos as fans screamed for mercy and glory. They would be legends. Her as the queen of the damned, him as her king. Together, they’d reign over the undead world, icons of fear, bound by lust.

She blinked, shaking off the vision just as Acid’s hand found her waist.

“Lost in thought, babe?” His voice broke through the haze. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Chaos and misery, I presume.”

Roxy swallowed, trying to regain her composure. “Just thinking.”

“That so? Anything dangerous?”

She stared into his glowing eyes, knowing she couldn’t tell him what was really on her mind. He’d surely think she was mad. Nothing more than a murderous psychopath who would slay everyone in the room just to be alone with him.

Maybe it was still lingering emotions from what happened with her mother and Hank just days ago. She didn’t want what happened to them, but each moment she wondered if her therapist was right to say she was more crazy than ill. Maybe her obsession with the macabre was starting to become too much on her strained mind. Since her father’s imprisonment, she’d lost all sense of reality.

No. She wasn’t a serial killer… Or at least she didn’t think she was. It was just the images of Acid’s films that made her long for the horror life. For years she dreamed of being part of it, mixed with the lusty thoughts of being his. She could just picture it, the dark diva of stage and screen.

This man’s influence had a haunting effect on her, pulling her deeper into the toxic recesses of her mind with every flirtatious word and lingering glance. Her daydreams were already wandering to where they’d slip away from the crowd and he’d press her up against his car again, followed by undead fingers tracing her skin. The line between reality and fantasy blurred, just as it always did with thoughts of him. But now, he was right at her fingertips, and she played with his tie, flirting unapologetically.

Acid leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a tease that made her breath catch in her throat. “Let’s blow this joint,” he murmured against her lips.

Her heartbeat sped up as he pulled away, his hand still resting on her waist before leading her to the exit.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to your room. We both know we’re not going to enjoy this party when we could be getting you out of that dress.”

With a devilish smirk, he took her hand and led her through the crowd. His grip was possessive and not in the slightest bit gentle, just how she liked it. Although the moment was a fantasy come true, her reality was slipping, and she wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, or the electric masculinity Acid was entrancing her with. Regardless, the visions were becoming much like the acid-induced trip of his last horror flick, mixed with splashes of neon colors and booming rock music she played in her head.

None of that mattered now. Who cared if she was going mad? She was about to be ravaged by the man of her dreams and she damn sure wasn’t going to pass this up for a small talk and a few martinis back at that lame party. The more vivid the intrusive visions went, the better.

As he pulled her into a nearby elevator to head to her floor, she was all in. It was time she found out if everything on this man was green from his head to the tip of his cock, and she darn sure hoped it was.