DEMONS ~ Bellarke

0.1 Bellamy

Bellamy

7:43pm

Taking a deep breath of the cigarette, Bellamy took in the view of the balcony in his hotel room, which looked out onto the city of London. He stared down below him, his (maybe too long) dark brown curls blowing in the wind. Bellamy thought the view was quite beautiful. He looked down at all the people, hustling around, busy with their everyday lives. They looked like ants to Bellamy, so tiny from where he stands.

Taking the cigarette between his fingers, he took another puff, and finishing it off, he disposes of it in the cigar dish to his left.

Walking back inside, he sighed heavily. When did he become so depressing? Bellamy thought. His life was supposed to be exciting and filled with adventure. But still deep down something wasn't right.

Well, it hadn't been for a very long time and it never would be, ever since.. Bellamy shook his head, running a hand through his hair then shaking it to get his curls back from his eyes. He couldn't think of the past. that was done and over. Now is the future. It will get better.

He felt somewhere deep down that something was going to change, he just had to wait for it.

And Bellamy silently promised himself that he will get better.

For himself.

1:57am

He didn't sleep that night. He was ready to do what he had to do. He has to do it, you know? It had to be done. This thing, this "lifestyle" he has, it made him feel better... It helped him.

He then pulled on some black gloves, to hide fingerprints of course. Then rummaging through the small kitchen drawers, he searched for his weapon.

Grabbing a sharp knife that was about 7 inches, he smirked into the metal reflection of himself and quickly slipped it up his sleeve.

There was a hint of regret shining in his brown eyes, but he remembered,

this is who he is now.

He grabbed his room key and silently opened the hotel door, leaving the room and walking down the dim lit hallway.

As Bellamy walked down the hallway, he wondered to himself if he would always be so alone. I mean, he loved the simplicity of traveling on his own. It was simple and easy. But sometimes he wished he had someone to live his life with, maybe then he could be happy. But happiness didn't suit him. So instead he just shoved his hands in his pockets and  focused on the sound his faded black vans were making on the carpet.

Walking silently towards the exit of the hotel, he walked past the desk clerk who stared at him in confusion. He was a man in his late 30's who probably made minimum wage and lived in a shitty apartment by himself. He was probably wondering right now why Bellamy was going out so late.

You see, Bellamy was very good at reading people. He could read the raw emotion on their faces, it was just one of his many skills.

Giving the man a curt nod and shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket, he stepped out into the night.

It was warm, Bellamy thought. Why was he wearing jeans and a jacket? It was probably 20 degrees out here.

He grumbled to himself as he walked down the back streets of London. Even at night it was pretty crowded, creepy people at every corner, giving you those blank stares with droopy eyelids and wrinkled hands holding out empty coffee cups.

Now for the fun part. Bellamy looked around, his eyes tracing up and down the people who walked around him.

His senses awoke when he spotted a grimy man dressed in gross looking jeans and an old- looking brown leather jacket who looked to be in his mid 50's, pestering a girl with short blonde hair.