When Charles was young, just a mere child, he enjoyed cutting up birds and hamsters or any other creature he could get his small, bony little hands on, but also, the child enjoyed wearing revealing and inappropriate clothing; even for an adult. When he wore them, his parents would scream, his mother would faint, his father would hit him, bruise him, cut him, spanked him, and would dunk his little orange head in cold water. A child can only take so much.
One night, after another beating for wearing his short-shorts, the boy snapped, and the fourteen-year-old killed his two sleeping parents in a bloody mess, but he was never caught. He was careful. Charles had been reading up on murders, his favorite were always the serial killers, but his absolute favorite was HH Holmes.
After their deaths, he ran off to the streets and his blood rage subsided, at least a little, seeing as he was able to see the deaths of hookers and bums. He himself, however, continued to wear the reveling clothing he oh-so loved and became a hooker himself. It was an easy way to get money, and, in his messed-up little mind, made his inappropriate clothing acceptable.
Years past, six years exactly, the boy who had turned his name to Henry Harold Manson, not legally of course, in honor of his two favorite mass-murders had been offered an easy five hundred dollars for a 'night of your best', he arrived at the room of a hotel dressed in his sluttiest. He didn't even bother to knock. He didn't have to. The one who had paid him, up front of course, had given him a key. Henry slipped into the dull-lighted room, and up behind the one in the room.
Even from the back, it was obvious it wasn't the one who had paid him, but was that his fault? No. He was the one who gave him the key and the room number.
"Hello~?"
He purred into his ear gently, rocking up to his toes instead of his heels like he had been doing before.
__________________________________________________________________________________A/N
Dear VivaLaPluto,
I'm lazy, so the word count is 350
YOU ARE READING
My Bloody Valentine
RomanceA role-play consisting of murder, death, and obviously psychotic lovers who go a murderous rampage, avoiding the police, FBI, all while blending in a silent rage. The people adore them. They adore each other. And no one can figure it out. Just how f...
