west coast ☆ joji miller

20 ; dead and beautiful.

"no! you can't fucking take me!" joji shouted, reaching into his pocket and whipping out a pistol. he pointed it towards the main cop, but a brunette, woman officer was quick to aim her black gun at him, a loud shot echoing throughout the room.

oh no. oh fucking no.

his blood splattered on my face, and a loud, bloody-murder scream admitted from my mouth.

my kidnapper, my lover. i felt sick.

the woman checked his pulse, and i shook on the carpeted floor as i stared at joji. what once was joji.

"suspect shot and killed after pointing weapon towards an officer... suspect joji miller."

and there goes my world.

-

"it's kind of tickles." i giggle, watching joji paint my face with a kid's paintbrush. the fake-paint smell invaded my nose, making me crinkle it.

"stop venus, you're messing it all up!" joji laughed, but it only made us both burst out in laughter. after a couple second of just us cracking up, it died down and joji took this as a chance to attack my mouth with his.

i playfully pushed him away, chuckling at the red face paint now printed upon his face. it reminded me a lot of blood, but i didn't dare to say that aloud.

"god, i love you." he whispered. i bit my lip to stifle a laugh;
"i love you too."

-

the face paint looked so much like blood, yet i never realized it was some type of foreshadow for this goddamned day. i felt needed when i was with him; even if he terrified me in every way imaginable, the horror was forgotten and replaced with beautiful memories. it felt different without him; i felt free but in a sickening way.

so, in my own words, oh no. everything is an "oh no" at this point. my shaky, traumatized body felt paralyzed as i sat next to his body. my love's body.

dead, still, and very beautiful. much like he was in life. i want him. i need him. his bloodied face was still as spirited in death as it was in life.

dead and beautiful.