Crimson Avocado.
The ugly avocado wallpaper was peeling off the walls, revealing old chipped stone that was slowly crumbling away. The unprotected light bulb swung from the ceiling in a hypnotic rhythm, casting its ugly pool of sulphuric light across the stained carpet. The view from the window was nothing more than a deserted alleyway were at night, creatures, both human and animal, took refuge from the elements.
The stench of alcohol erupted from every crevice and crack, attacking my senses like a rabid dog. The glass bottles lay abandoned on every available surface, some no more than a pile of shattered glass, reflecting speckles of warped green light against the ruined walls.
The bathroom door hung off of rusted hinges, broken and forgotten, just like me. Beyond the cracked doorway lay a different realm, one of red emotion and burning fire. The yellow sink stained with dripping red and an empty hollow face with its never ending gaze.
You stand, viewing Paris in all its glory. Your dark eyes surveying the broken scenery, a cruel smirk developing on your face, twisting your once pleasant features into something ugly. I sat unmoving, watching and waiting, the empty black hole in my chest sucked away all emotion, including any ounce of fear I may have once felt.
Your dark scare eventually snapped over to me, I envy you, your ability to still feel, even if you only feel the pleasure you obtain through others suffering. You stalk forward, your anger and hatred betrayed through your sharp movements.
I'd seen this many times before, you'd let your emotions take control of everything, until you'd leave me, purple shadows forming on every body part that was within your reach with blood staining my torn clothes and crimson swirls decorating the once cream carpet.
The sting from the first slap bought me out of my thoughts, my only safe place. The fire in your eyes bought forth memories of the last year, a year of pain and torture, a year of suffering at your blood stained hands.
But not anymore, you didn't see the cruel flash of cold metal until it was too late. The black hatred seeped from your eyes and was replaced with a cavern of fear and shock. Your breath became shallower as your blood ran down your pale flesh, the glimmer of life eventually leaving your eyes in a never ending stare. In a matter of seconds you had become nothing more than another red stain on the carpet. After all, what is Paris without a bit of red romance?