Heartbreak Hotel: Concubine

Memoirs of a Marionette I

February 25th

Evening

I stared at the piece of paper longer than it actually felt. The words, the letters, no matter how many times I read through it, it was all scrambled. I couldn't grasp the proper concept of the subliminal message written in this short piece. Was it because of the odor of the dead bodies, or that the dead bodies were actually my past friends,  I didn't know. 

I couldn't think. 

These eyes of mine had seen so many death scenes,  but somehow, this one got to me more than any other ever did. 

Despite always knowing that by getting these two involved with me would bring them to this point, somehow the real deal did greater amount of damage than I had imagined. I can't turn back the clock, I can't stop the fate from playing its cards, I can't do anything for them. From the moment they decided to let me into their little circle, to the moment where they got involved with the killer, the fate already knew what was going to happen. 
And even thought I knew that this would be the situation at one point, I still walked into their lives like I didn't have a big, black mass of destruction floating around me like a cloak. 

Somehow, deep down, where the farthest corners of my heart have been shut off, I knew, that this fragile being of mine, was at fault.
There was no other person on this world that could bring these two such unfair death, but me. 

It happened. 

It really happened. 

Not only did it happen, but the bastard that did it is toying with us. It's like they knew we were going to come here at one point. And that the girls usually never really let anyone in their apartments.  So they would have to scam them somehow. 
They took into consideration and bet on the girls not really being good with the neighbors. They've clearly been dead for a long time and no one has even bothered to come look for them. 

How sad.

I closed my eyes and once again looked away from the scene. It was horrid. The blood, the smell, the image, the missing body parts, dislocated joints, the opened eyes that stared right ahead of us, soulless and empty, it was all too much. The faces I once knew as smiling and bright with energy, were now dead and twisted in weird places. 

To see our little Amelia cry..is it your first time seeing a dead person, sweetheart?

It's somehow painful. And in that moment I realized just how weak I had grown. Showing emotions, loving, letting people into my unreal and fake life. My resolve has weakened. 

Well that's too bad that you're crying.

I opened my eyes to the sight of Isaac fixing his gun into the pocket of his coat. He had the same bored, nonchalant expression that he always wore. That expression would turn to amusement in a flash and the cockiness that would cover up his real intentions. He didn't care. Why would he. Two dead people, to him, are like two squished bugs on the ground for other people. 

Because you'll be looking at lots and lots of pale, decomposing faces from now on!

It's normal.

It's normal.

"Rose?"

The reality struck me like a sudden wave. Caught off guard, I only released a questioning sound, before realizing that Isaac had actually been speaking to me. 

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Where to now?"

He grumbled out in irritation. Sending me a silent glare that said that he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, Isaac turned on his heel to walk out the entrance. I followed shortly after.