Samuel lived in a small apartment overlooking a polluted, litter infested city. He enjoyed his humble home. Most did not. The once white now beige carpet covered the floor of every room except the kitchen and bathroom. The bathroom had a checkerboard linoleum floor peeling in the corner exposing the mold and a hole which mice came through. The kitchen had the same pattern. The only difference was the large carpet on the floor covering the mold and water damage.
The kitchen had pale blue paint on the walls. Most of the paint was covered in dust and food splatter. The stove was a older model with the elements above the stove top. Bits of food laid under them which would later cause a small fire when turned on. The sink and counters were overflowing with dirty dishes that let off a rotten egg like stench. Flies were buzzing over the dishes. Most of the cupboards were empty of food (much to the insects and rodents disappointment). The fridge contained rotten pizza, curdled milk and a old tomato (by a couple months). There were many takeout boxes littering the counter and overflowing the garbage. Tucked behind the trash can was a empty pill bottle.
The bathroom sink was broken and had a constant bit of water escaping the faucet. The drain was clogged with hair, fingernails and a bit of dried blood. The handyman (John) had tried to unclog the sink but failed. The shower had a soap scum build-up along the walls. The drain was clogged with hair snaking its way up the drain (despite gravity's best effort). Three dead spiders of various sizes laid on the floor of the shower. The toilet was sparkling (the one thing in the house that was clean besides the walls in the washroom). Above it was a simple picture of a tree. The toilet water, however, was not. It was tinted a pinky red with bits of something floating in the water along with vomit that was not his (Samuels) own.
Samuels bedroom consisted of a bed, a dresser and a closet with the door closed. The window above the dresser looked out onto a sidewalk 13-stories below. If you were to squint your eyes you'd think there was something shattered on the sidewalk below. The window was barely open allowing a small summer breeze to come through. The breeze, however was unfelt due to the heavy opaque curtains covering it. The dresser had only three drawers. The deep blue paint was chipped in some places and peeling in others. His bed was unmade. The covers were bunched at the end falling onto the floor. A yellow sweat outline was where he would sleep (If he could in the heat or when a bad migraine came on). The pillow also had a yellow sweat stain.
Right before the closet was a pool of blood soaked into the carpet. Samuel had spent some time trying to get rid of the stain. He had thrown his back in the process. At his age (58) it wasn't a surprise. In the closet John was resting against the wall, rotting in the warm temperatures. His skin was beginning to slide off his face onto the floor. Part of his skull was missing along with most of his brain. Blood had dribbled from the wound last night. Now it had mostly stopped. His eyes were open and milky white. All he had on was his blood soaked underwear. The rest of his belongings were hidden under the bottom drawer in Samuels dresser. It was where his handgun had been. It was now shattered on the sidewalk print-free.
John was a good man and at least a decent handyman (if he said so himself) before he was killed. He was unfortunately rushed that particular morning and had skipped breakfast to make his first house call as scheduled.
That afternoon had been what Samuel described as "exciting". Samuel had had nothing against John. John had fixed his kitchen sink a few months ago (before abandoning it completely) and he was courteous enough. It was nothing personal. It had just been his time. When he had called for the handyman he had had everything ready. The rat poisoning had been emptied from the pill bottle and crushed into a sandwich for when John got hungry, his handgun had been fully loaded and beneath his dresser drawer. After an hour of Johns foolish attempts to unclog Samuels bathroom sink (he had made sure it was good and broke) he offered him the sandwich. John had thanked him genuinely and eaten it eagerly. Samuel had watched him the whole time, the anticipation of the next act causing him to perspire more than the heat alone could cause. When he had asked to use the washroom Samuel found himself unsurprised and elated. "Don't forget to wash." Samuel stated without enough sarcasm to be funny.
When Samuel had went to the washroom with the fully loaded handgun John had tried to put up a fight. His fingernails had cracked, breaking into the drain in a attempt to get up from his crouched position above the toilet. Samuel had easily pushed him (due to surprise and John's poor condition) against the wall above the toilet and shot him in the head. There had been blood splatter and most of his brain, skull and flesh had fallen into the toilet. The bullet had pierced the wall luckily hitting a wood beam. Unfortunately it had been too deep to dig it out and Samuel had no caulking. A simple painting had easily fixed that though. Now, it was as if the murder had never even happened, except for the large body in the bedroom closet.
He was currently resting in his favorite recliner (he called her Bessie) watching the news. The living room was also messy and had plenty of stains in the carpet. The space was mostly empty (as a boy Samuel had always wanted luxury in his life. When he had shot the first man in the head as a cop he realized he didn't need luxury. A broken sink made it a lot easier to get people into your home). Tattered curtains covered the window, stopping the morning sun from coming in. The box TV was in front of it letting off a glow the sun failed to provide. Bessie was soft and warm and gave him comfort people failed to provide. She was quite stained and let off a creak when you shifted. It showed her age. She was almost as old as he was. He pulled out his painkillers and sleeping pills which helped him with his CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and constant migraines. He downed all the pills dry.
When the cops broke down his door they found him rotting in his recliner, John was found shortly after. John's skin was piled on the floor along with his organs. Samuel only had sagging skin. The apartment has never been re-sold
