That night he couldn't sleep, no, instead he sat at his desk within his room. He had popped his bones back in place in his hand and was constantly stretching and flexing them back into shape. Though... his torso ached, it ached in a satisfying way that made him somewhat glad he had taken it too far. The gash went from his upper left side and stretched down his torso, across his ribs, and to his other hip. It wasn't too deep, but it was deep enough. It hadn't messed with the way he played that night, though , once his fingers began spilling out the music he thought of nothing else. He couldn't feel pain like a normal human would, no, not anymore.
If anyone had walked in they would've just seen a man dressed up leaning back in an office chair with one hand twitching and moving as if he were playing the piano. They would've noticed how his mind was preoccupied with something. If they were to walk closer they would see the dozens and dozens of pictures spilled across the deep mahogany desk. They were creepy, no doubt, because by looking at them you know he was obsessed with the girl that seemed to be the centerpiece of every picture. The quality of the pictures happened to be incredibly old and the girl was young. Yet in every picture the girl smiled, even when she was crying..it was as if she knew he was there. As if in every picture she directed her smile to him.
This man sat with his eyes closed.
I am back guys!!! This year has been incredibly busy for me, but I am here to tell you that I am going to try and produce more pieces for you guys to read. Hope you enjoy the upcoming events.
YOU ARE READING
Product of a Murder
FanfictionWay before the asylum, before anyone ever knew of Hannibal the Cannibal. There was a girl. A girl that brought back the past and shattered the present, a girl who would change everything for better or for worst. "We can only learn so much and live."
