Warning: This is very dark and some may not like it. Read at your own risk.
The thick liquid ran onto the stone floor from his fingers. A faint dripping sound echoed off of the walls of the underground cavern, creating a haunting atmosphere around him. He removed his gaze from the still form lying in front of him, down to inspect his own appearance.
Crimson.
Crimson was everywhere; from the hem of his warn-in leather jacket, to the collar of the stolen janitor's uniform. His hands were coated in the thick substance, his forearms sticking to the thin uniform uncomfortably. He sighed in annoyance and wiped his hands on his navy-blue dress pants, also stolen. The fabric quickly helped clear off his hands, enabling him to start cleaning up his mess. He squatted down by the still form, the thick liquid stick seeping out of the large gouge in its neck, and picked up the sparkling-silver knife from where he had dropped it earlier.
The light from the oil-lamp illuminated the relatively large cavern with yellow light, casting shadows over his face. He inspected the sharp piece of silver with a professional preciseness, showing anyone who looked on that he had done this many times before. The manmade light made it clear to him that the thick liquid wasn't only all over him, but all over his most prized possession too. The blade appeared to be dark, almost black, but when he ran his index finger over its flat edge, the shining silver shone through like a beacon.
He straightened up again, wiping the blade off on his already-ruined pants and concealing it in the hidden compartment in his warn jacket, before nudging the still form with the toe of his boot. The form rolled slightly and revealing blank, once lively, brown eyes. Terror shone in the depths of them, causing him to sigh again and shake his head.
"I told you what would happen if you didn't come quietly, Sweetheart. This's what you brought upon yourself; I warned you." his smooth voice whispered into the air, secret amusement lingering in his tone. He reached down and took ahold of both of the still form's arms, before dragging her form over to the antique elevator shaft.
The large, rusted-metal box sat loyally, ready to be used. He dragged her form into the cage of the elevator, tossing her in the far corner when he himself was inside. Her dark-brown braids were matted with the thick liquid and her mouth was hung open in a silent scream. He shook his head sadly down at her form, before exiting the metal cage and walking back into the cavern.
The oil-lamp hung from a hook in the middle of the cavern, a thick trail of the crimson liquid led to the elevator from a large puddle right beneath the lamp, a metal lockbox sat about five feet away from the puddle, and footprints of the thick liquid were scattered around the stone room. He made his way over to the lockbox, stashed it away in his jacket, muffled the flame on the oil-lamp, and then started back towards the elevator, smirking to himself at the quickness of the job.
He really didn't have to do much, this time.
The woman was an easy target, never watching her back and too naïve with whom she put her trust in. She had just simply agreed to come with him when her car broke down; after he had removed some of the plugs in the engine, of course. He had conveniently been on the same road as her when her car started having trouble, so he offered her a ride to her boss' house; where she was expected to meet him ten minutes later. He had smiled kindly and allowed her to take refuge in his vehicle as he drove, charming her expertly. The only problem with her savior was that he knew exactly how this was going to play out.
First, he had started towards the location that she had told him she was supposed to be at. Then, when they were about half way there, he had turned onto a deserted road. The road led to the abandoned mine on the outskirts of town, where he had been staying and plotting for the past week. He had stopped the car right at the entrance to the underground elevator shaft that led to the storage room, where the miners used to stockpile explosives. Of course, the deadly weapons were taken with the men when the mine was abandoned, so the cavern proved to be the perfect hideout.
He had turned towards her and whispered quietly, "If you come quietly, I won't have to kill you."
Of course, that was a complete and total lie, but he was giving her an option to make his job easier. Her eyes had gone wide and panic had shone brightly through her brown orbs. She had shaken her head and tried to get out of the old, beat-up, rental car, but he had manually locked the doors on her side so that only someone could open them from the outside. He had sighed tiredly and gotten out of the car, walked over to her side, pulled open the door, and then proceeded to carry her struggling form into the elevator's cage.
She had tried to scream for help, but they were miles away from civilization and were also on their way to be three stories underground. He had looked at her and taken ahold of her many braids, before ramming her skull into the side of the metal cage. She had almost immediately gone limp and he caught her easily, swinging her barely-conscious form up into his arms.
When the cage landed at the bottom of the cavern, he had carried her out of it and dropped her into the middle of the vast room. She had watched him with heavy, but confused and terrified, eyes, as he turned on the oil-lamp and paced in front of her. She had been entirely disoriented from the blow to her head, so her vision of him was blurry as he busied himself around the empty cavern.
He made sure that the elevator was ready to go up for his escape, before turning towards the woman fully. A wicked grin graced his lips and a malicious twinkled hinted in his eyes, making him appear to be of demonic origin. He squatted down to eye level with the confused woman and hummed under his breath.
"Now, what did I tell you about being quiet? Look what you made me do, Sweetheart. I disfigured your pretty little skull." He whined teasingly, petting her hair mockingly. Her braids were starting to get matted to her forehead with blood, which was seeping out at dangerous levels from the crown of her head. She stared up at him dumbly, trying to get her lips to function right desperately.
"What do you want from me?" she managed to mumble out while blinking harshly up at him, trying to clear her vision slightly. He just laughed, a deep and threatening sound, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his blade.
The knife was made of solid silver, obsidian inlayed into the handle, sharpened to a wicked point, and had ancient symbols carved into the blade itself. He twirled the blade idly around in his hand and leaned over the woman, pressing its tip into the soft skin of her neck.
"Listen up, Sweetheart. I'll ask the questions, and then you're going to answer them for me. Deal?" he inquired rhetorically, looking into her eyes with a snake-like sharpness. She nodded numbly, being sure not to press the blade further into her skin, and a single tear slid down her cheek, mixing in with her blood and leaving a small trail in its wake. He grinned, satisfied, and tilted his head to the side slightly.
"Now, what's your name, Sweetheart?" he asked, picking up one of her blood-soaked braids with idle interest. She swallowed thickly and sniffled.
"M-Maia Roberts." She squeaked out, looking up at him through her tears and blurred mind. He nodded slightly and bit his lip in thought.
"Alright, that's exactly the kind of cooperation that I was asking for." He said to himself, before pulling back slightly and removing the blade from her neck. "Maia Roberts, huh? Well, you've gotten yourself into quite a mess here. Haven't you, Sweetheart?" he asked, beginning to twirl the blade around his fingers once more. She kept her eyes trained on the deathly sharp weapon throughout his speech, but allowed them to flicker up to his shadowed face quickly when he finished talking. Her eyebrows pulled together and she sniffled again, more tears streaking down her caramel-colored cheeks, before speaking.
"W-what mess?" she inquired confusedly. He chuckled darkly and stopped twirling his blade momentarily, only to continue after a minute of looking deep in thought.
"Why, this one of course. Did you even check to see what you were delivering to your boss tonight, Sweetheart?" he asked slowly, as if she was a small child. Her lips parted slightly and she reached into her coat quickly, pulling out a relatively large box.
It was completely made of silver, much like his blade, and had a secure lock on the front of it. The box itself was about the size of large jewelry-box, about half the size of a regular shoe-box. Small, intricate designs were carved into the surface of the box and on the very top of the box; a small group of herons were sketched into the metal.
Her eyes were wary as she handed the box over to him, thinking that if she cooperated that he wouldn't kill her. He knew exactly what she thought though, so he decided to play along. He gently took the box from her hands, with a gentleness that normally wouldn't be possessed by someone with such harsh capabilities, and a small smile graced his lips. He ran his thumb over the metal gingerly, as if remembering a long lost memory, before setting it down to the side of the scene and turning back towards the woman. She watched with wide eyes as he began to close the distance between them and as his blade neared her body.
"What are you doing?! I gave you the box?! What more could you want? Let me go!" she asked, her tone sounding as terrified as her featured portrayed. He clucked mockingly and tilted his head to the side, as if observing a foreign animal.
"Why would do that? You've already seen the box, so you'll eventually have to be taken care of. Why not now?" And with that, he lunged for her; pulling her back towards him by her ankle when she tried to scoot out of his reach.
The dagger plunged into her neck, slicing through the tender flesh and severing her jugular artery. The woman's, Maia's, body twitched and thrashed against his, but he never let up on his grip. Her eyes looked into his with terror and her mouth worked with a silent question.
Why?
Everybody asked that, and everybody got one answer from him.
"I'm doing you a favor. Had you gotten one of my coworkers, you would be burned alive. Lucky for you, I'll put you out of your misery first, Sweetheart. Don't worry. Just let go." He said calmly, his voice quieter and more soothing than before. Her eyes stared into his for a moment, before her entire body went limp and blankness showed through her irises. He sighed and stood up from his position on the cold stone floor, letting her body roll onto its side by gravity. The knife dropped out of his hand and he gazed down at her crumpled figure, once again regretting his choice of carrier.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, just like he always did after a job. Though, nothing could ever fix what was done; especially when he continued to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.
The moonlight reflected off of the beat up rental-car's windshield. He dragged her body out of the elevator and towards the old car, where she would remain until it went up in flames later that night. He dumped her body into the trunk unceremoniously, before making his way around the vehicle to the driver's side. Once he was situated in his seat, he started the car and drove along the dirt road until he reached the safe-zone.
The safe-zone was basically a spot where he could burn the evidence without civilization being alerted. There, he had already dug up a large hole in the ground and had his supplies already lined up.
When he got there, he got out of the car, made sure that he had his knife and the box tucked safely into his jacket, and moved around to the back of the old vehicle. There he stripped off his jacket, stripped out of the janitor's uniform that he had stolen earlier that day in order to shadow the woman, replaced his stolen clothes with the pair of black jeans and T-shirt that were packed into his suitcase in the trunk of the car with the woman's body, and also replaced his jacket. The warn leather always comforted him when he was doing a job.
He rechecked his belonging and the box to make sure that they were with him again, before slamming the trunk closed and dropping his suitcase to the ground. He placed both of his hands on the back of the car and started to push the piece of scrap-metal into the large pit that he dug up in advance. The car rolled into the pit easily enough, containing Maia's body and the bloody janitor's uniform inside of it.
When the car was completely inside of the large pit in the earth, he walked over to the side of the pit. He had come to the pit earlier that day and placed supplies for later by it. Gasoline and matches were piled up on top of a lone rock at the side of the pit, just waiting to be used.
He crouched down to pick up the gasoline first and, with the help of the moonlight, he started pouring the entire gallon into the pit and on top of the car. After he finished with that, he went on to strike a match and throw it into the pit.
Fire immediately blazed up in the pit and the car started to burn, along with the rest of the evidence. A faint crack of thunder could be heard in the distance, so he knew that he time it exactly right. When the car finally demolished into nothingness, the rain would muffle the fire slightly; making it easier for him to pile dirt on top of the pit to hide all evidence. At the rate he was going at, he would be out of tow by sunrise.
Hours later, as he watched the rain pour down onto the still-ablaze fire, he smiled slightly to himself. Now that he had the box, he could finally return home and get out of the mess that he created in the first place. When he lost the box, his father forced him to find it. So, like any other loyal son would've, he did. He started getting involved into his father's business and started taking on jobs.
Now that he had the box back though, he could finally go back home to his mother and father. He could have a normal life, finally.
And as his golden eyes were trained intently on the night sky, all that he could think about was his future. A future with no more violence. A future with a real job and maybe even a family. A normal life, where he could finally forget about the past year; a year that no seventeen-year-old should ever have to go through.
No more bloodshed.
No more guilt eating him away to the core because of all the terrible things that he had done.
No more disappointed glares from his father.
No more sadness.
Little did he know though, that what he would find in that box would change his entire life. Forever.
Little did he know that bloodshed would follow him for many years to come.
If only he had known…
So, how'd you like it? Was it good? Bad? Absolutely terrible and now you want to gouge your eyes out with a spork? Yes, I did just say spork…
That's the beginning of a new story. I just got really bored and this popped up in my overly morbid mind, so I decided to post it. :D
Tell me your thoughts and if you think that I should continue writing this. :}
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