rotting angel blood ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* jojian

two

 ian looks to the next house, pacing towards it. it's painted a light pink, rose bushes growing in the front. he begins to walk in, and speaks into the phone. "the door's open," ian snickers, "fuckin' moron." he ends the call quickly after, putting his phone in his pocket and taking his gun out. "anyone home?" ian shouts. the house is filled with dolls, knives hung up on the walls. ian smiles, "another weirdo," he mutters. he quickly follows this up with, "anyone?"

"here!" a voice calls out. ian turns around. nothing. "outside!" the person says.

ian walks through the house looking for a back door, possibly cracking a porcelain figure of a fawn along the way, but he doesn't give a shit, he wants this kid's blood. he finally sees a back door, open as well. he sees more rose bushes, and as he walks out, urning to this right, he sees a boy in a lacy nightgown, a flower crown and angel wings. he has a porcelain doll on his lap. he turns around. the boy has jet black, short, curly hair, bright, wide brown eyes, and thick, pink lips, smeared with tinted, shimmering lipgloss. and to the boy, this must be terrifying. ian is wearing a black ski mask, as well as a torn up white tee shirt, and drug store boxers. only his swollen brown eyes and bloody lips show through.

the boy speaks up, voice trembling, "do you want to kill me?" a small smile creeps up on his face.

ian wanted to comfort him, but he didn't want to lie. it was a simple yes or no question, he knew the answer, "no."

"what do you want, then?" the boy asks, smile now fading.

ian doesn't want to lie, he really doesn't, but he doesn't want to scare the boy off, so once again, he tells the truth, "i want your blood and guts," he replies, calmly.