The Games We Play | ✓

9. HOLLYWOOD IS BLEEDING

09.
[HOLLYWOOD IS BLEEDING]

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RICH PEOPLE THREW the most glorious parties. Under the strobing lights and pumping music, it seemed like one could get away with anything.

Reed was right – Hollywood was a crime scene waiting to happen. Whether it was assault, drugs, or theft, Charlotte was certain everyone in this ridiculous party was a criminal one way or another.

Murderers like them fit right in.

The pair sat in a booth at the corner of the room, where Reed had his arm resting gently behind her. They blended right into the shadows except for their godly glowing eyes. Those eyes scoured the room, watching drinks get spiked, lies get told, and hearts get broken.

That was the thing about golden parties like this. Between dusk and dawn, everything that happened was just an elaborate hallucination. Nothing was real.

"I bet everyone here thinks they bleed rubies," Charlotte said. She crossed her arms, unimpressed by the hundreds of self-important A-listers roaming the party.

Reed sipped on his drink and looked at her through dark eyes.

"Maybe we could find out," she said pathologically, examining the hundreds of potentials victims amongst the crowds.

His chest rumbled as he laughed silently. "Not tonight, Charlotte," he said softly against her ear. There was something so intoxicating about her. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

Charlotte's eyes drifted towards a couple standing by the railing. The male yelled something to his companion, who desperately gestured her hands in attempt to put some distance between them. After moments of arguing, he angrily swatted her drink from her grip, and Charlotte watched it fall past the railing. The man took the girl's wrist in a grip that seemed far too tight and twisted her arm as he led her away.

"Why not?" Charlotte pouted. Her glistening eyes travelled to the table beside them, observing the two figures pulling out little white bags.

"These are celebrities," he said. "The biggest stars in the world. It'd be too hard to get away with. Besides, fame will get to them eventually and smite them itself. It always does. By life's standards, they're dead already."

The two figures on the next table dumped the contents of their bags and used their credit cards to create artistic little white lines. Charlotte watched them lean in and take that powdered poison into their worshipped bodies. The pulled back and inhaled deeply, like they were trying to suck in and imprison the life that desperately wanted to get away.

"I like that." Leaning into him, Charlotte marvelled, "We're all dead already."

Reed pulled her close, his skin craving more of her touch. "Very much so."

Her smiles could outshine the brightest emerald. Beneath the dancing shadows and crawling music, he kissed her and tasted her like she was the finest wine. Again and again. He couldn't get enough of her.

"Are you scared of death?" she said, her hands curling against his hair.

He pondered this. Alcohol buzzed through his mind, screaming about the strawberry taste of her lips.

"I...I'm scared of how permanent it is," he answered quietly. He leaned towards her soothing touch.

Death takes what it wants.

She breathed life against his quivering lips.

"I'm scared to die as something I'm not," he continued. "I don't want to hide in death like I do in life. If that makes sense." His swirling eyes looked at her, as if he was memorizing her. The sunken danger in her gaze, the curling promise in her lips, the vinaceous color of her blush.

"It does," she hummed against his lips. With one last kiss, she sprung up and pulled him to his feet as well. She led him across the room, down the stairs, into the middle of the crowd.

"Let's live like we're going to die, then."

With a glowing smile, she grabbed his hand and dove headfirst into the pool. The fell into the water, sinking deep until they touched the cold marble floor. They drowned their nightmares, leaving them writhing painfully at the seabed.

The crowd cheered like it was a simulation. They couldn't see the dripping color of blood that stained the two killers, painting the waters into a crystal red bloodbath.

At every corner of the party, those gold-filled monsters glazed their eyes over, like they couldn't see past the light of dawn that was slowly approaching.

The couple from before went home, where the man would strike the girl until he tasted satisfying blood from her scarlet veins. The strangers would keep snorting those white lines to desperately try and stay high, knowing they wouldn't survive the fall.

Their dead celebrity hearts beat to the bass of the music, stopping once the party ended.