Cold Blood

❥ Chapter Ten ❥

Written by DeadlyDisasters

"What's your favorite color?" I randomly call to Ash when he passes by my open bedroom door.

I watch as he hesitates when reaching for his bedroom door knob. He doesn't open the door but turns around and leans against it looking at me thoughtfully. I look back down at the laptop sitting on the bed right in front of my crossed legs. I start scrolling through the news page that's open reading news about the "Reaper" which is what the reporters have started to call me.

"Red but not any shade of red, the shade of blood. I'm not just saying that because I'm now a killer, I've always genuinely loved the color." Ash finally tells me.

"Interesting, any particular reason why you've "always" liked the color?" I ask still looking down at the news articles with a smile.

"Kind of, it's hard to explain but when ever I saw blood or that shade of red it would feel like it's calling me. I felt drawn to it, like there was something that I would one day do that involved it."

I looked up at Ash but he wasn't looking at me. He was still leaning against the door but he had his head down so his silky black hair covered his eyes. Almost like he was ashamed of his answer and was waiting to be yelled at.

"Ash, why do you look like you're waiting for me to scold or hit you?" I ask him, he shouldn't feel ashamed by that fantastic answer. He sighed and shook his head, he looked up at me but I could see pain in his eyes. A kind of pain a twenty year old shouldn't be feeling.

"I get it, you'll tell me when you're ready. My favorite color is black but not just any black, the kind of black that when under a certain lighting it looks dark blue. When I was about sixteen, I met this guy and his hair was that black and I thought it was so amazing I made it my favorite color."

I told Ash, I motioned to him he could come into my room rather than just stand in the hall. He did so slowly, he looked around as he did and I suddenly felt a little self-conscious. I don't know why the walls are painted dark blue, the furniture is white to brighten the room, I have a ceiling fan with lights on it and two lamps to bring lots of light into the dark room when the sun goes down. The floor is dark hardwood like the rest of the house, the curtains are black and currently open to let in the sunlight. The bed is in the middle of the room but up against the back wall, their aren't any clothes on the floor.

The walls are bare except for a cork board I have on a small section of a wall to put up notes. Why do I feel that little piece of self-consciousness? It's just Ash, yes he's been here for a short time so far but still I like to think he's a friend.

"Have you ever gotten any awards or prizes when you were younger?" I asked him as he sat at the end of my bed.

"No, I tried really hard to get good grades and get all those fancy awards they give students but I could never concentrate. I would study all the time but there would always be something holding me back from being able to concentrate and memorize all that crap."

"I'm assuming then that you've never been to college."

"No, when I had finished school I had to stay home. I couldn't leave and go off to college. I'm glad I didn't though."

I don't get him, he's hinting at something. Something that held him back but he won't tell me, that really irritates me. Don't refuse to tell me things then hint at them. I hate guessing games, ever since my mother was killed I never went back to school. I studied independently.

"Ash, do you want to play a game?" I asked him as I turned off my laptop. He looked at me suspiciously like he didn't trust me.

"What kind of game?"