The Mortician's Daughter

Chapter 1

(A/N: BVB is not technically in this chapter yet... Andy makes an online appearance though. Just warning you.)

"So I was thinking," I said, bending over the desk and folding my arms on it, "about a new story. Not necessarily front page, but I would like something other than the poetry section. Not that I don't love writing poetry for the paper, but..."

Peter bit the top of his pen. "What did you have in mind?"

"Okay." I flopped down in the chair. "So I was thinking about teen stereotypes and mistreatments and fads among certain 'cliques'."

"'Cliques' being your clique. Right?"

"No... I don't like being considered in a clique. But okay, I want to do a story about the opression of goths/emos/scene kids. So what? It's a big issue in schools all over the world."

Peter fake-sighed. "You think this story will go over well? Fine. It's yours."

"Squee! Thank you!"

"What are you planning to do to develop this story?"

"Actually," I said, "I'm going to try to get an interview--at the suggestion of one of my--er--fans--with someone who faced exactly the type of oppression I'm talking about all through school and came back against all odds to become semi-famous. The problem being that said person is semi-famous, so getting an interview might be a bit of a problem. But I'm on it."

He shook his head, but he was smiling. "You realize you can get access by saying your a reporter, right?"

"Not necessarily. But come on. It's me. I will get this interview."

He laughed. "That's my girl."

As I walked out of The Office, all the females in there glared at me on my way out the door. I was used to this. All the she only has a job at this paper because her boyfriend's the editor and what does he see in her? He needs someone like him. Not a monster girl. It was at this point I always wanted to point out that I am not goth, which I had been at one time, nor emo, which I had also been and was a very hardcore emo too, but scene. There's a major difference. But I always just held my tongue, pretending I didn't hear a word they said. Yes, I had one of the most coveted boys in the world for my boyfriend. And you know what, I didn't make him love me. For whatever odd reason, someone "normal" like him did love me, the scene/goth/emo/punk tomboy, the journalist, the geek, the mortician's daughter. That fact alone was enough to get me made fun of, and then I had to go and dress all macabre because of it. Go figure.

My dad was a mortician (and sometimes a coroner forthe homicide division of the local police, when a mortician alone did not profit enough). He owned the funeral home he also worked at. I found all of it fascinating. Ever since I was a little girl, I would love looking at the cadavers and watch my father do his work. Then I started helping him with the cadavers, and now I lived for that. Most everyone would have been grossed out by the dead bodies, but not me. Now that was not what had turned me all dark, but I was kind of destined to be a tomboy anyway, growing up with no mother. I just absolutely love death (obviously) and dark colors, dark makeup, piercings, some tattoos (not on me, on the guys I date. Not that Peter would ever have a tattoo, for all the three and three-fourths years we've been dating, and the year I knew him before that), black painted nails, fishnets, chains, stitches and scars, dyed black hair with colorful streaks, teased layers and razored bangs... I loved all of that.

I walked all the way down to Rose Thorn Funeral Home. Masochistically enough, my father named it after my mother, who had me out of wedlock, then abandoned me on his front porch, wanting nothing to do with either of us. And yet, after all of that, my father was still so in love with her he named his funeral home after her.

"Daddy!" I called as I shoved my bag under a chair in the waiting room. One of our funeral planners who was putting fresh fake flowers in a gold vase glared at my bag pointedly, but I didn't move it.

I knew all the shortcuts around the place, so I took the secret door to the back where my father was, with a cadaver laid out on the metal table in front of him. The room smelled like formaldehyde, wax, and powdery makeup.

My dad was injecting the body when I walked in.

"Ooh, when's the funeral?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," he said, putting the needle down and going for his makeup kit.

"Can I do this?" I asked, taking the box out of his hands.

He looked at my face warily, like he always did when I asked this. Took in my onyx black eyeshadow, heavy kohl eyeliner, and powdered white face.

"Dad, really. I'm not gonna make it look like me. You know I'm good at this. I learned from the best, after all."

He sighed and shook his head. "Next time, Raven. This one's high profile."

"Can I at least dress it?"

"Next time."

"Okay," I said. As I walked off I mumbled, "That's what you always say."

Our house was right across the street from the home, hidden behind a vast abundance of trees. I grabbed my bag then ran home.

As soon as I made it in I clicked on the computer and headed to Myspace. New Messages.

I already knew who it was from without even looking.

BVB CONCERT SATURDAY!!!!

My best friend Sabrina. I was not really into Black Veil Brides (yet, seeing as I'd never listened to their music) but the lead singer Andy Six (or Sixx, depending on how you spelled it, according to Sab it was one x though) had a great life story, one that I could use for my newsstory. I knew this because Sabrina had been talking my ear off about him for months, begging me to get an interview when the Black Veil Brides came to town.

Did you message Andy Six yet about the interview? He responds personally, ya know.

Yes, I knew that, she told me all the time.

'Cause he never gets on anymore, she continued, so if you haven't your screwed.

Anyway, you really need to listen to BVB before the concert so u can know the music!

Yeah, yeah, if I was actually going to this concert for the music. I was only going to get this interview. Possibly. I didn't even know if Andy Six would let me interview him.

I ignored her, typed his name in the Myspace people search, and found his profile. I figured it would be easier to message him personally as opposed to BVB.

Apparently he hadn't been on in like two weeks. Just my luck.

Either way, I clicked Send Message.

Hey!!!

No, the extra exclamation points made me seem like a preppy fangirl. I deleted all of them.

Hey,
my name is Raven Burke. I'm a reporter for my school newspaper, The Lion's Den (yeah, don't ask about the name.)

Anyway, I'm doing a story about teen stereotypes and the oppression of goths/emos/scene kids... My friend told me you have an amazin story about that, and I was just wondering if you'd be willing to do an interview? Maybe after your concert Saturday? (I already have tickets xD)
-Raven

After that I added him to my friends (just in case) and went to go message Sabrina back. Just as I did that the little IM thing at the bottom of the screen popped up.

AndySix: Hey. Got your message. Sounds cool.

morbidmortician: Wow, so your actually online. You added me?

AndySix: Yup. To both. So anyway, I can send you backstage passes or whatever.

morbidmortician: Awesome! Could you possibly send two? Another one for my... assisstant.

AndySix: Sure thing. Email or mail?

morbidmortician: which ever easier for you. email: rabidxraven@hotmail.com, address: 500 Cherry Ln. Santa Barbara, CA

AndySix: So you live in Cali too?

morbidmortician: yup, born & raised. I hate it though. I live about an hour from Hollywood.

AndySix: yeah, I miss Ohio sometimes. No rain in LA.

morbidmortician: LA is probably awesome though.

AndySix: idk... so what's up with your name? "morbidmortician"?

morbidmortician: my dad is a mortician

There was a "silence". Surely Andy Six of all people would not think I'm weird for that.

AndySix: ...really.

morbidmortician: yeah. I <3 it. I so want to be a mortician when I get out of high school maybe take over my dad's funeral home.

AndySix: hey, I have to go... See you Sat.

morbidmortician: yeah, guess you're busy. See you.

Ohemgee, I thought. I clicked on the message body and started writing to Sabrina.

I talked to him... he seemed really nice. Well, until he found out dad is a mortician, but still, what do I expect. Anyway, he said he'll do the interview and is sending us backstage passes! W00t!
♥ you,
R.