Author's Note: My very first semi-official drabble! Woo! Just something that popped into my head while I was thinking of two other Bleach fanfics I want to write. I won't be updating much (if at all) in the next week, because of school and the fact that I'm so stressed I just want to bang my head against a wall until I can't see through the blood. Yeah, it's that bad. I mean, really, how much math does one need to be a cosmetologist and fiction writer?
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of its respective characters, settings, etc.
"Hell Heels"
Hinamori's eyes stared unblinkingly ahead, held open by fear and mortification. For them to be open was torture, but she didn't have the strength to seal them shut. She could see the puddle of red ooze that surrounded her, her own blood. She could see it yawn and spread forth, chasing at his heels. He walked away, his shoes a soft padding sound that traveled through the floorboards and rang in her ear like a siren. His robes licked at his feet, a contrasting mix of white and black. She had always thought that the white kimono made him like an angel – untouchable and untainted. But now it was stained with blood. Her own blood, which ran in raw red pinstripes across the weaving; which dotted in speckles and stars of scarlet that seeped through the fibers.
He was no angel. Hell had woven itself into him.