Disclaimer: I own nothing.
*
A soft, continuous rattle echoed, somewhat muffled by a solid door. A grunt sounded and the wooden apartment door finally swung open, "Damn, I need new locks on my door."
With a flick of a wrist lights flooded the apartment, "Ow, shit!" the voice was clearly female, her pain caused from walking onto a piece of broken glass, which quickly went through her tennis shoes. "Dammit, I need new shoes..." She moaned in pain jerking her purse off her shoulder and chunking it across the room. A moment later it slammed into the wall. Pulling her hurt foot up she seized the shoe, ripping it off and throwing it tumbling across the floor, before hopping, on one foot, across the room trying to avoid whatever glass was left on the floor.
Finally clearing the glass she dropped to the soft carpet, which didn't help her landing as she banged her hip into the floor, but without missing a beat she twisted her leg around, examining the bottom of her right foot, "Ah..." she whispered her eyes narrowing
at the clear piece of glass, blood now welling up around it. "This is gonna be a bitch." She hissed to herself, before setting a pale finger on each side of the shard that jutted out of her soft skin, yanking it out. Cursing loudly she threw the crimson coated glass across the room, her teeth about to draw more blood from her lip, her hands gripping her foot and whimpering a little at the pain she just caused herself.
"Holy shit that hurt..." she muttered after a long moment of silence in the apartment.
"I can't just let it bleed," she muttered watching the hot, crimson blood pool in the lows of her fingers as they gripped her wound. Sighing she let one hand drop the foot, red sliding down each finger, not daring to shake the blood of like water, which would give it a chance to implant itself in the flawless cream carpet. She moved her hand quickly wiping it emotionlessly across her white dress shirt. After that, her hand still stained a thin layer of red, moved pulling the buttons from their snare inside the other flap of fabric. Sliding the shirt off she removed her other blood-covered hand now, wrapping the wound in the dress shirt, leaving her in only a lacey white bra.
Tightly tying the shirt around her foot she stood and ran her other wet hand over her jeans. Walking with barely a limp towards the kitchen she picked up a broom and dustpan. Moving to the door where cream tiles laid, matching the floor, that was now speckled in the glittering remains of a translucent vase. Kneeling, although her knees never touched the ground, she swept the mess neatly into her dustpan, standing and moving back to the kitchen, dumping most of the large sharp jewels away for good.
Sighing she finally looked down at her hands, both stained a translucent red-brown; dark blood caked under her long, would-be pretty nails, her one hand still a little wet. Wiping her hand against her jeans, she began moving towards the back of the apartment, to the bathroom. Unbuckling her pants as she walked, she let them slide down before kicking the soiled clothing away. Pushing the bathroom door open with her hip she reached over, hitting the answering machine's "play" button on her phone as she filled the bathroom sink, soaping her hands up, cleaning them until they were once again, vainly pale.
Her mind tuned out most of the messages, an invite to this, a payment due here, her subconscious doing the work for her here, until one message clicked on.
"Ah, welcome home dear 3359826, may I be the first and only to say well done. Now, before you start to relax, you've been hired again, already. Oh this is not a normal case either,"
She snorted towel drying her hands and walking out of the bathroom, to stand closer to the phone, "That's what you say every time." She murmured spitefully.
"Now don't even start about how they are always the same, this one truly is different." The calm male voice continued as if reading her thoughts over the answering machine, "3359826, you've been hired to kill Quatre Winner."
*
UPDATED: 12-11-03
Email: ai_child@comcast.net AIM: MinakoWinner04
Questions, comments, flames or death threats: leave a review or email/message me.
*
A soft, continuous rattle echoed, somewhat muffled by a solid door. A grunt sounded and the wooden apartment door finally swung open, "Damn, I need new locks on my door."
With a flick of a wrist lights flooded the apartment, "Ow, shit!" the voice was clearly female, her pain caused from walking onto a piece of broken glass, which quickly went through her tennis shoes. "Dammit, I need new shoes..." She moaned in pain jerking her purse off her shoulder and chunking it across the room. A moment later it slammed into the wall. Pulling her hurt foot up she seized the shoe, ripping it off and throwing it tumbling across the floor, before hopping, on one foot, across the room trying to avoid whatever glass was left on the floor.
Finally clearing the glass she dropped to the soft carpet, which didn't help her landing as she banged her hip into the floor, but without missing a beat she twisted her leg around, examining the bottom of her right foot, "Ah..." she whispered her eyes narrowing
at the clear piece of glass, blood now welling up around it. "This is gonna be a bitch." She hissed to herself, before setting a pale finger on each side of the shard that jutted out of her soft skin, yanking it out. Cursing loudly she threw the crimson coated glass across the room, her teeth about to draw more blood from her lip, her hands gripping her foot and whimpering a little at the pain she just caused herself.
"Holy shit that hurt..." she muttered after a long moment of silence in the apartment.
"I can't just let it bleed," she muttered watching the hot, crimson blood pool in the lows of her fingers as they gripped her wound. Sighing she let one hand drop the foot, red sliding down each finger, not daring to shake the blood of like water, which would give it a chance to implant itself in the flawless cream carpet. She moved her hand quickly wiping it emotionlessly across her white dress shirt. After that, her hand still stained a thin layer of red, moved pulling the buttons from their snare inside the other flap of fabric. Sliding the shirt off she removed her other blood-covered hand now, wrapping the wound in the dress shirt, leaving her in only a lacey white bra.
Tightly tying the shirt around her foot she stood and ran her other wet hand over her jeans. Walking with barely a limp towards the kitchen she picked up a broom and dustpan. Moving to the door where cream tiles laid, matching the floor, that was now speckled in the glittering remains of a translucent vase. Kneeling, although her knees never touched the ground, she swept the mess neatly into her dustpan, standing and moving back to the kitchen, dumping most of the large sharp jewels away for good.
Sighing she finally looked down at her hands, both stained a translucent red-brown; dark blood caked under her long, would-be pretty nails, her one hand still a little wet. Wiping her hand against her jeans, she began moving towards the back of the apartment, to the bathroom. Unbuckling her pants as she walked, she let them slide down before kicking the soiled clothing away. Pushing the bathroom door open with her hip she reached over, hitting the answering machine's "play" button on her phone as she filled the bathroom sink, soaping her hands up, cleaning them until they were once again, vainly pale.
Her mind tuned out most of the messages, an invite to this, a payment due here, her subconscious doing the work for her here, until one message clicked on.
"Ah, welcome home dear 3359826, may I be the first and only to say well done. Now, before you start to relax, you've been hired again, already. Oh this is not a normal case either,"
She snorted towel drying her hands and walking out of the bathroom, to stand closer to the phone, "That's what you say every time." She murmured spitefully.
"Now don't even start about how they are always the same, this one truly is different." The calm male voice continued as if reading her thoughts over the answering machine, "3359826, you've been hired to kill Quatre Winner."
*
UPDATED: 12-11-03
Email: ai_child@comcast.net AIM: MinakoWinner04
Questions, comments, flames or death threats: leave a review or email/message me.
