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Birmingham, 1919
"Wake up, you ass." Isabella muttered as she kept moving while frantically throwing rocks aimed at Nicholas' bedroom window.
"Why are you throwing rocks at me window? You have a key, walk through the fucking door." Nicholas tiredly yawned when he opened the window, allowing Isabella to finally stop throwing rocks.
"Get down here." Isabella gritted her teeth, talking with a harsh voice. While also being considerate towards the two other sleeping people in the house.
"No. You come up." Nicholas sighed, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "I am fucking sleeping."
"Fuck me. Come down, now." Isabella demanded.
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Now you've bloody gone and done it, woken me up! Nicholas Ian Matthews! Get out of this bloody house, right this instant!" Dorothy's voice boomed through the house. Nicholas sighed annoyedly and trudged away from the window to put on some clothes.
Isabella kept herself moving. Walking, jumping, shaking, anything to keep moving, while she waited on Nicholas to step out of the house.
She was weirdly enough not freaking out. She couldn't believe what she had done. She couldn't believe that she was happy and proud of her actions. Fuck, she was happy.
She couldn't believe it.
Her clothes were clinging to her body, and they were probably permanently stained. Her hair was soaking, also sticking to her face and neck. Had there been any light out, everyone would see the red sticky substance covering her whole being.
"What do you want?" Nicholas asked while locking the front door. "Why am I not sleeping comfortably in my bed?"
"I did something. And I need your help to make it un-happen." Isabella vaguely explained. "Not undo it. I am psychotically happy I did it, but I need your help to make it so it didn't happen."
Nicholas furrowed his brows at Isabella's explanation. Walking closer to her, he saw the blood covering her entire body, soaking her clothes. "What the fuck?! Are you hurt?!"
"No, no. I sort of, somewhat, might have killed someone." Isabella let out a loud genuine laugh. "In cold fucking blood. And it felt so wonderfully amazing."
"What?"
Isabella continued laughing, placing her hands on her knees she bent over to keep herself on her feet. "Dead. He's dead dead and in so so so many bits. Murder Nic."
