Slowly Cultivated Killer

Red Hair

Three bodies in the past 2 weeks so, this has been a relatively slow month with my average body count being seven per month. The food is running low so I need to venture out into civilization to get what we need here since Moyo isn't here today - it's his day off. The car smells like bleach and lemon cleaner still, but why? I left the windows down to air it out; Moyo must have thought someone did it by mistake and raise them up. As I pass my apartment, my mind goes into the state it is in when I'm there - I feel alone. I feel incomplete. I feel depressed. The Bank is my life and home, and I cannot let it die because I'll die without it. I'll die. ... Bright blue and green colored cars litter roads like the flowers of spring in a field of grass. Tulips, lavenders and daisies. Just a world of pastel colors. Only it's Fall. It's just Fall. Flowers die in the Fall. All the flowers die. You died. You won't come back. I've been sending you friends. Did you see them? Did they say hi? Did they marvel at your beauty as I had? Your long red hair, turqouise eyes with skin the color of perfected hazelnut coffee cream. Your laugh. Your way of swaying when the music played. Your voice sounds of a sweet violin playing. ... Your gun. Your head. Your long gorgeous red hair. I loved it. I hated it. It used to be better. It was such a beautiful blonde before the accident. Before our accident. And your blood. Your disgusting grotesque beautifully crafted blood, that gave your body life so you soul could stay within, stained your silky blonde hair. I put a wig on her to look like you and she died from a head wound, like you. But yours. Yours wasn't from a stage or horrible acting. I shot you baby. I'm sorry. You pushed me too far and I couldn't come back so I kissed the barrel and put one through your pretty little skull. Laying there, dead and bleeding profusely, I never thought you could look more beautiful dead than you did alive. Except for your hair. You hair was now a beautifully revolting flourescent red. Her wig looked the exact same as yours. Your dead red hair. It made me long for you. I hope you met her. I picked her out just for you.