Thick with the stench of his theft, the room shivered down in to its final resting place. No room for anything else, the passion and life that once filled its halls lustfully exhaled out through the Lemay. Crimson stains leeched down through the sheets and mattress, until dripping in finality on to the tacky shag carpeting, drop by drop. Its morbidity was beautiful, true art Garrett thought to himself. No he couldn't see it, but he could smell its glory. He was covered in it, hair dripping with splendor, teeth caked in grandeur when he bared them at the scene. He had taken care to spread his magnificence to the walls in dramatic displays of ferocity. The blade that had drawn this colorful display of viciousness lay glinting its wicked grin in the strong hand, now open and relaxed, connected to an arm draped across a thin and lithe body. The same body that had been ravaged not moments before by that hard, sharp smirk contained in that palm. But not the body that Garrett needed. Not the one, but still fun. Not the one, but good practice. She had sounded like her, but he knew from the moment he tasted her that she wasn't the one. With a final deep inhale, he drank in all he could, and then continued his pathetic, yet relentless hobble, leaving the two behind. And there they would lay until morning, when the hotel's maid stumbled across them as was her unfortunate duty to do so; dead lovers intertwined, making room for the next in line.
YOU ARE READING
Little One
FantasiA man that has never known peace. A girl that has never known love. And a boy who has never known failure. They come together in this dark world to find what they have never had. Because trying new things is good for you, until it kills you.
