Clips

Aimee

I felt a light breath on my nose. I looked up, startled. A thin girl was staring at me. She giggled. My eyes darted around, unsure where to look. She bopped me on the forehead with a finger.

"Oi! You! Don't just sit there, acting all like you don't know what you're doin'! You can see full well I'm right in fronta you!" Her voice was bubbly and high-pitched, almost like a child's. My eyes rested on a scratch on the table's surface, not looking at her.

She slammed her hands down on the table, shaking it. I looked up at her, eyes wide.

"Jeez, chill, Lady," I said, suddenly wary of her. She had to be strong to be able to shake the solid oak table. It had to have weighed at least 200 pounds. (Hey, it's a large table. ) She licked her lips. They were chapped, red, and raw. They looked slightly bruised, too. I glanced at her small arms. Pale. Thin. Frail. She certainly didn't look strong. She was crouched on the table, standing on her knees, with her arms in front of her, palms down. Her short, ragged, dark red hair covered her left eye.

"Chill?", she chuckled. "Usually, people don't get to say things like  that to me. But, I like you, so I'll tolerate it just this once." A small smile formed on her face. Her green eye glinted with amusement. She sat down on the table top, putting her hands in her lap. I nearly pointed out she could stick her hands in her pockets, but then I looked at her clothing. She wore simple white canvas clothes, cut to make shorts and a tank top. She did have pockets, but there was a few handles poking out of one, and some round things in the other that made the pocket damp. A small red stain was on the side of her shirt, some on her arm, some in a splat pattern near her ribs.

I sighed and looked away. I felt 2 small hands on my thighs. She then crawled onto my lap. Blowing in my ear, she whispered, "Deus~ I'm only here to help~ Let me take care of you~". I turned and stared at her.

"Who the hell are you?"

She grinned, pushing her hair out of her face. I nearly screamed. Her eye was black. Not in the sense that her iris was black, but the entire eye. The deepest, darkest, most pure shade of midnight I had ever seen. The flesh surrounding it was a grayish, veiny, mess, about 2 inches in diameter. Revolting, horrifying, hypnotizing. Her eye glinted, purple seemed to be dancing in it, like shadows.

"Aimee Rose, at your service!" She chirped, pulling a knife out of her pocket. She flipped off of my lap and pointed the blade at me. She stepped toward me, giggling like a madman. "Actually, I do think he's worth it. And no, no killing today. Only cuts!" She said to no one.

She dove forwards expertly, pressing her knife against my neck. I didn't move. I couldn't move. I felt paralyzed. She nicked at the skin, drawing blood. She drew the knife across my collarbone and shoulder, not too deep, but deep enough for me to cry out in pain. Blood ran down my arm. Aimee dragged the knife through my shirt, as if it were butter. She traced lines on my abdomen, leaving trails of red and blood. So that was what was on her shirt.

Someone knocked on the door to the room.

"Day? Man, you good?"

She flicked the knife into my gut, digging into it. I screamed in pain.

She pouted. "Looks like our time has been cut short, my love. Byeee~" Aimee whispered, pulling out the knife and vanishing.

"Day!"

The door burst open. Light flooded in. T.J stepped into the room and gasped. Blood was pouring out of my neck, arm, chest and stomach. She ran to my side and yelled something at me. I couldn't hear her. Her face was concerned. Everything went fuzzy and dark. Too dark.