/ˈɒpjʊl(ə)ns,ˈɒpjʊləns/
⇒noun
great wealth or luxuriousness.
"you taste of melancholia and rotting pain"
"and you, of an opulence that courses within the broken veins of a decaying dynasty"
cover by @plutoqissed
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E P I L O G U E
3 months later
Ransom's aquamarine eyes circle around the shores of Margot's tranquility, they swallow the golden sands of her free locks falling delicately at the edges of her blushed cheekbone, her mocha eyes buried in the pages of a worn out book.
He traced the way her breast lightly fell upon the satin crease of her glossy robe as they rested lightly above the growing bump in her belly. The beige pigments of her hand smoothly caressed back-and-forth over her growing womb. Ransom's grip around the glass in his hand tightened, it's origins unreadable - a tinted anger, guilt or sheer madness perhaps.
The room was gradually submerging into an unnatural red mist, the pigments stabbed upon the atmosphere through the windows, growing darker. There was a small glint in his eyes now, as black as midnight sky. Margo put her book to turn to her husband, but that sweet smile vanished to robe upon something much more sinister.
Her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes stitched together while the edges of her lips poked around her cheeks. The bones on her hands broke melodically as they slowly took the shape of anomalous claws, her epidermis torn as the bones in her knuckles grew engorged and the room deepened in a saturated hue of burgundy.
The edges of her nails grew long, her tongue hissed like a snake, her irises now reptilian as she stared deeply into the trenches of Ransom's wretched pupils. Her metamorphosed palm suddenly bore deep into her stomach as a gust of slick crimson spurted across the room, her hands cupped a small ball of pulsating blood clot, rich with the essence of pure life.
The smile on her face carved deeper now, and her teeth dug into the warm flesh as emerald veins emerged from the thick clot and dressed themselves upon her teeth.
The screamed echo of a baby's cry pricked the hairs at the back of Ransom's neck while the magenta liquid ran down Margos forearm and a sapphire tear streamed down her countenance.
The squelch of torn cartilage ricocheted against the walls, the shattering cry slowly fizzled out as she feasted upon the flesh of her own unborn while her intestines draped out of her body, from the ripped hole in her womb.
"Babe..." She whispered as pieces of red meat trickled down her laughing lips.
"Babe" he felt his mind slowly drift away.
"Babe!" The sudden, soft scream shut his eyelids and when he opened them again, normalcy.
"Why are you standing there staring at me?" she chuckled, placing her book on the table next to her still opened on the page she was reading.
"O-oh" he returned back to reality.
"You really zoned out there." the glow in her cheeks reflected against the cobalt of his irises. "That for me?" She raised her eyes as they enlarged just a bit, staring at the glass half filled with water.
"Y-yes." Ransom finally snapped out of it, as he walked closer to her, handing over the glass of nourishing water that had been corrupted with lethal chemistry. Only if she had known how his brain was slowly turning into rot.
--
Descent into an apocalyptic malady, the gulp of chemical water, the sharp shatter of an iridescent glass and the scent of sterile hospital walls.
"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you but the baby - it...it didn't survive." The doctor told the crooked man with a cigarette rasp in his throat and a sad eyes behind the pixels of his round glasses that mirrored the stethoscope around his neck. But, all Ransom could do was churn his lips into a devious smile.
'Finally, her...I can be...with her, ha-h-a' deathly obsession coursed through his burnt veins, spoken through the neurotransmitters of sadism.
--
Anya's head, too, had slowly disintegrated as they could only think in syllables of woe. The engine of his white mustang almost ran out of fuel, he had finally reached her, or so he thought.
fantasizing about the way her lips would curve with that scandalous smile, the way her eyes trembled with a platinum spark, the way she loved him delicately with her touch and her talk, the way she absorbed him.
Although, upon arrival all he saw was a piece of paper, spilled ink entwining with silken droplets of peach blood.
A suicide note.
Ransom's weak legs carried him to the next room and as the sight burned deep inside his soul, his mind finally split.
Thick blood streaming down her slit wrists of merlot. A rope textured like cinder straw, tied into a rough noose with her bruised neck snapped upon it. Her lifeless body swaying in thin air, and all that was transcribed upon her cadaver was estranged peace.
Ransom lost everything that evening, including the man that he once was.
