The Small Blonde Girl

Chapter 4: Insanity's Blood Stained Heart

He walked out the hotel into the bustling streets. His eyes focused on the route he came, and others focused on their own. The chatter of the people was rather diverse. Many seemed happy talking to friends, others much more serious on their phones. The rest remained stoic and just trudged unto their own daily goals and objectives.

Rose saw only ghosts of people. He saw emptiness on their eyes, and dryness that stated coldness. This place was filled with a cold war between people. Lines of site meeting others like the crossing of swords (minus the noises, obviously), daring the other to make a move. If looks could kill, this would be genocide.

He began to rush on the route he knew all too well. Rose just now began to take in the scenery. The town itself was rather modern, filled with nice comfortable coffee shops on every corner; almost begging for him to spend his attention and money on them. In between In between the crowded, narrow streets were all kinds of other stores filled with items of clothing, men's and women's wears all on display, beckoning all passers with allure and glamour, all in hopes to lure a hapless fellow into the confines of the welcoming doors. Onwards, branching off from the main chunk of road were more lowly areas that seemed to give off, hazardous, treacherous, precarious feelings about them. Despite the fact they were just branching off alleyways. It seemed to be a place nightmares were born and raised.

The skies were cloudy now, shrouded in fluffy clumps of gray candy floss, the floor - soaking all this point, the rain and came down like a fire hydrant exploded. In less than five minutes having caused the streets to give have a minor overflow. It continued to hammer down unto his head, halfway to his dream lover's home and he was regretting not bringing an umbrella. Cursing himself under his ragged breath, he had ran when the precipitation began. His clothing was soaked through, the streams that escaped the fabric to make room for other translucent liquids was disguised in the current weather. His hair - matted to his forehead and turning the hazel locks a more, bleak blackish-brown, just dark enough to really bring out his pale skin and eyes.

He began to brush at what would later become a tangled, fluffy mass. Like a web that would entangle any brush that dare tread through it. The rain continued on, pelting him with water droplets that after the earlier happenings felt like pebbles lunged at him from the gray mist above.

All previous thoughts had vanished from him, melting away from his adolescent and unwise mind as he tried to make sense of what happened without admitting the obvious to himself - a single thought he rejected but knew it was the most logical thing that almost screamed at him. Even at this point, he felt a creeping shadow inside his own skin, he felt it laughing and following him wherever he went.

He truly was losing his mind still. Tearing away from him as though his mind was just a fragile cobweb. His heart began racing. His ears picked up the most horrendous of noises. His veins pumped with adrenaline as he felt himself begin twitching. His neck at first, then he threw his whole neck to the left and along followed his head. Before he just froze. His limbs becoming stiff as though the joints were lined with cement. His eyes began moving around rapidly, trying to desperately make sense of his body's sudden halt. Then then he saw something that made his heart stop. A bloody claw wrapped around his waist as a lover does from behind, a chilling flowed out from behind him, as free as the rain down his cheeks; despite the noise of the community around him, began to fill his ears and made his lungs fight to keep their air

His mind had finally found a way to tear him to pieces from the inside out.

"What's wrong with your bake...?"

It spoke... A beautiful voice. The kind of voice you listen to with enthusiasm while concentrating on trying to memorize every word as though it was the speakers last. The kind of voice where every word is as its own elusive song. The kind of voice that entraps you and dominates all senses and plays you like a violin, with tones and pitches that may as well fuck you.