Hellooooooo Watermalones! Nice to see you again. So, there have been quite a few questions and I am her to answer them. Soooooooo...YES THERE WILL BE OTHERS. I JUST NEED TO INCORPORATE THEM INTO THE PLOT. And the last paragraph of the story last chap (Her and His P.O.V.) That was a dream. So they were like...touching...through a dream. Soooooo...yeah. Enjoy this amazing chappy my ripe fruits!
His P.O.V.
"Help me..." The woman's cup was empty, no change evident in the paper object. Nothing but a crumb, staring at him with such intensity. He stopped. The lady turned to him, not expecting for the man to actually listen to her pleas of help. The pavement was cold on the lady's toes. It burned her feet, morphing the flesh atop her heels a sickly purple.
"Sir...Please.." Her voice was hoarse, crackling slightly near the end of her cry. He peered over his shoulder, brushing his chin against the fabric of his trench coat. His fingers throbbed against his dark gloves. The want to end her suffering. The need. He withdrew the gloves from his hands, feeling the wind nibble on his palms.
"T-thank you, sir." He strode towards her, stepping careful on the gray, cement squares. She thought he was helping her, giving in to her pleading requests. No. No, he wasn't even. He was stretching his fingers, savoring the warmth of her neck across his hands.
She screamed, muffled by the glove stretched around her head. Tears ripped from her eyes, dancing across her cheeks. Soil from the swipes of muck across her face collected in the drops. Tightening his grip around her neck, he felt her beg for oxygen. He swallowed down a thick glob of spit encased in the pit of his esophagus.
"There, there." He cooed. Her resistance against the placement of his hands ceased. Squatting, he peeled back an eyelid, viewing the iris of the woman. Dead. No movement. No life. The violet color paled, shivers being received from the very bottom of his spine.
"It's going to be fine. Everything's okay." He whispered into the homeless lady's hair, tasting dirt across his lips. He didn't know if he was trying to convince the dead woman...or his own sanity.
X.0
Her P.O.V.
She growled, spitting at the screen of the computer. The monitor continued to replay the report. Growling, she flung the item across the room. The glass smashed against the white walls, a spark of electricity igniting before clashing against the wooden panels of the floor. There was but lies scribbled against the mouths of the news reporters.
They had said the man was a sociopath. They had called him the same nickname used for her crimes. A murderer. A monster. But he wasn't. Deep inside of her skin, she knew the poisonous guilt that overrided his bloodstream. She felt what he felt. She...knew.
And so, the vision from last night's dream filled her mind. His tears dripping into her hair. His hands, clutching dearly onto her waist, forcing her to bury her sobbing form against him. She had learned love. And somehow, she had managed to grow a deep affection for a male whom she never met. Only seen. Only heard about. It was but an imaginary fantasy. For someone to hold her near, whispering meaningful phrases against her lips. Alas, it couldn't be true.
She fumbled with a piece of glass on the floor, running her fingers across the length of the shard. It sliced her skin, blood leaking along the glands of her fingertips. Wincing, she viewed the wound, examining the vermillion that dipped down her palms. No one would ever love her. No one.
She sobbed, bringing the pointed danger to her face, slicing the cheeks where her tears hand landed upon. Crimson mixed with the clear substance, taking on a pinkish shade. Screaming, she buried her hands into her face, cursing the bane existence of her looming self.
"I want to die." She whispered. And so, her eyes lulled to the back of her head.
X.0
His P.O.V.
They rushed the patient into the room. Red and blue flashed throughout the cloudy skies, the colors combining to create a dark shade of violet. He waited outside the window, squinting. The patient was female, he could obviously tell. Tufts of blonde hair hung out of the white sheet that covered her body. Blood matted the material to the girl, dripping off the bed that was rushed into the room. The wheels squeaked. The material was peeled away.
His throat constricted, choking him involuntarily. Heart pounding through his chest, his skin pulsed against his jugular. He shouted at the window, pounding the curtained glass square with the tips of his knuckles. It couldn't be. It wasn't.
He looked back at the female. Her eyes were hazy, brown searching the room in a frantic pace. The doctors inspected her face, prodding the slashes across her face with a tool laid on a metal table next to the surgery platter. They widened the gash, plucking an object from the girl. A pointed shard of glass. She had tried to kill herself.
"No. No!" He screamed. Vermillion gushed from her soft cheeks, an unfitting color against the pale blanket of her skin. He grabbed a rock from the soil beneath him, smashing the stone against the sealed cube that blocked him from her. It but cracked slightly.
He was forced to watch the scene unfold before him. Crying out, he sobbed into his cold palms, feeling the iciness of his fingernails scrape the underside of his eyes. She was suffering. He wanted to old her, to whisper against her bloodied cheeks. To wipe the pink tears shed across her flesh.
He ran into the hospital.
X.0
Her P.O.V.
She squinted under the blurry white of the lights above her. Doctors with masks. Gloves. Shouting. Her eyes were crusted, blinking away the lash that threatened to stab her eyeball. With a sudden wave of panic pulling over her, she sat up from the bed. The doctors but stared at her bloody self, pushing her forcefully against the stained sheets. She screamed, squirming under the needles that sewed her opened flesh. In and out they went, the thin rod stabbing her sides, closing her bloody wounds.
The thread was running through her skin, throbbing the area in which the doctors stabbed her with the utensil. And they stopped. Everything stopped. The doctors waved their hands around, an oblivious feel of distraughtness closing in on the inhabitants of the room.
She felt herself lose control of her body once again.
X.0
Her and His P.O.V.
She was few feet in front of him, an arm's length. It was as if the universe was teasing him, hanging a most decadent piece of cheese in front of a famished mouse. Gulping, he elongated his hand, feeling the air that surrounded her limp frame. He tapped her shoulder, indenting a white mark in her fragile skin. Scars ran across her cheeks and wrists, discoloring the beauty that was held captive across her flawless self.
Her nose had twitched. Jerking back from the girl, his eyes but widened at the thought of her waking up, hugging him. He wanted to kiss her. Her eyelids twitched abruptly, tugging his face closer to hers. She was waking up. He was but a few centimeters away from her. Her lips.
Coughing, her eyes had fluttered, exposing the brown irises buried beneath. Blurry, blurry, blurry...then him. She had grown a quant blush across her cheeks, the close proximity proving to be quite uncomfortable for her regaining conscious.
"I realize this is sudden, but seeing you up close, I really have the need to kiss you right now." This was the man. From her dreams. The one whom she had grown a longing want for. Without an answer, a meek response at least, he dove in, connecting her lips to his.
The puzzle was completed. Their lips molded perfectly against each other, a slow rhythm adorning the romantic gesture. Both her and him refused to tear apart, afraid they'd never get the chance. The single moment.
He could sense her palpating heart under the wrists in which he had so carefully reached for, lacing his fingers through her shaky palms. None of them questioned if this was wrong, if this was right. No words tumbled from their tongues. Only the passionate exhibition of their growing affection was shown through the soft and steady movements of each others mouths.
"You're the man," She whispered against his lips. "The man from my dreams."
FAXNESSS OVERLOAAAAAAD! Man, I'm happy. Are you happy (Whoever you are?). Fax, fax, fax...AND ONLY THE 3RD CHAPTER. This, right here, is a story based purely on romance. With horror, hence the killings and yada yada yada. Ill introduce new characters next chap and see how you like the plot still.R&R Pleaseeeeee. Come on! I Gave you FAX! What more could you ask for?!
(A/N The Royal Concept- On our way
Passion Pit- Take a walk
CAGE THE ELEPHANT, GROUPLOVE, ANYBODY?!)
-Carnival of Idiots on Show