Passion – After the battle
Eileen Galvin, occupant of room 303 in South Ashfield Heights, a young pretty twenty something year old with her whole life in front of her, stood on a high platform in front of some frantically spinning morbid killing machine with a dead serial murderer with an Oedipus complex and a stoic thirty-ish year old nearby.
But, through her possessed green eyes, she didn't hear the grotesque noise of blood sloshing around, or the sound of the murderer or the demon that represented him. She didn't see them either; just a long white corridor with a luminous light at the end, and a very, very vague human figure within it too. Entranced by the light, she started to walk on her injured bloodied and bruised legs, her high heels making the task a little harder than she'd like to admit.
She didn't hear as Henry called out for her to snap out of it, or the gunshots firing around the chamber. She heard the faint rustling of leaves and birds tweeting a merry song.
The light was approaching ever closer.
She looked at herself, the white hallways, and behind her. The bandages were falling away and her skin was returning to it's usual creamy freckled colour. The guaze padding on her eye fell down, too, and she blinked, the light was turning into some kind of image.
Water was pooling around her ankles for some reason, too.
Henry stopped his actions of grabbing spears for just one moment, Eileen's legs were submerging with the blood of the nineteen Sacraments before her.
She blinked again, she could hear the sounds becoming stronger, accompanied with rushing water. The light was giving away to a blue sky and green grass.
Henry stabbed the last spear into the creature, and it fell, then he turned his back to it, and went to face the now-mortal Walter Sullivan. A quick – worried – glance at Eileen showed her submerged nearly entirely. If he didn't kill Sullivan soon…
Eileen stepped out from the corridor into a park. A woman with skimpy clothing was next to two small children, they looked like brother and sister, and laughing with them. There was a fat man talking to a man holding a trowel, dirtied with soil. There was a man In a green t-shirt, holding a bottle of chocolate milk, sitting on a bench, and writing. But the person who caught her eyes most was the person who looked like they didn't fit, standing against a tree trunk, smoking and cursing at various things…
The brunette squeezed the guns trigger, and, as the blonde man in front of him fell to the ground, calling for his mother, he heard a crunching noise.
He fell to his knees.
'Eileen…'
The man she was staring at turned to look at her, the numbers '19121' evident on his forehead. He opened his eyes in shock, and smiled an uneasy grin at her, and she took the opportunity to run at him, and leap into his open arms.
"Hello, Princess!" He said, ruffling her short-ish brown hair.
"Hello, Richard…"