One Shots

Crimson and Cold

Hi. So, this is not a smut-filled one shot. This is actually an entry I wrote for julietswildchild 's writing contest. I placed second with it and I'm sort of proud ! I figured I'd post it publicly for anyone who was curious but didn't want to give a one-off piece its own book. Please enjoy. x

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I sighed at the bloody mess before me. They always had to struggle, didn't they?

I watched the girl's blood leave her body, painting the once dingy white sheets a deep crimson. She laid sprawled out, her wrists tied to the headboard and her legs contorted from the kicking. When I took a step towards the other side of the hotel room, I could feel and hear my shoes squish! as I stumbled into a puddle of her blood. I would've laughed had I not been in such a morose mood. All the sight did now was irritate me, particularly thinking of the winter chill outside.

Trudging to the bathroom, I removed my large rain jacket and threw it over the curtain rod for the shower. When I took in my appearance, I did nothing but sigh. The streaks of red covering the exposed parts of my skin just annoyed me today. Drops of crimson fell from my hair to my shoulders and I quickly moved to rinse my hair out in the sink. While blood was hard to see on black clothing, I still didn't need the copper smell. When I stood again, I noticed that a small streak of hair that had once been bleached blonde was now dyed a faded red because of her blood. However even that couldn't get me to crack a smile.

I replayed tonight's events back in my mind as I washed my hands and face. This girl had been foolish enough, trusting my slick smiles and wanton winks like most of the others. I didn't even have to suggest leaving the party－ she did that on her own. She carelessly dragged me to the elevator, pawing at me as we made our way up to her room. She was almost too drunk, stumbling and leaning into me for balance, but I'd made sure her death was plenty painful anyway. When we'd gotten inside she'd tried to kiss me and I'd considered letting her, but I've never let a victim kiss me before. Instead I tricked her, feigning some sort of BDSM kink for the sake of easily constraining her.

Then came what should've been the fun part, but tonight it just felt routine. Muffling her with a washcloth from the bathroom didn't immediately put her off. It wasn't until I pulled my knife from the inside pocket of my leather jacket that she'd started to scream. The party was too loud downstairs for anyone to hear her, but I still covered her washcloth-stuffed mouth with my hand as I cut her dress open. It wasn't to be perverse. I had no urge for sexual violence; that was too twisted, even for me. It was simply to expose her chest. I pressed my ear to her heart and listened to it beat rapidly, but it caused no excitement. Slicing the flesh in between each of her ribs gave me no thrill. Pressing the blade deep into her stomach was tedious. I even tried something new after having watched Westworld; I scalped her, and it was messy and nearly made her pass out from the pain, but even then I felt nothing but boredom. Eventually I just slit her throat, ending the experience early so I could throw myself a pity party.

Irritably, I took my shoes off and examined the damage. They could be saved, since the fake, plastic leather was less porous than the real thing. I finally managed a chuckle, just a solitary snort through my nose, at the thought that I valued animals' lives above humans'. As I started to clean them off, I debated if consuming human flesh would make me more comfortable than eating animal products.

I threw the shoes in the tub, using the removable shower head to rinse them, and my raincoat, off. As I recreated a Hitchcockian scene, I turned my head to look at the woman on the bed. I didn't even know her name. She'd been too intoxicated to be concerned with conversational formalities. I'd managed to tell her my name was Andy, but she'd never given me one in response. When the water in the tub ran clear I turned it off and let the garments sit for a moment. I took my socks off before I entered the room again, mindful for the blood-stained carpet.