I have this sort of obsession.

It’ll seem alarming, but hear me out.

 

I have these dreams, visions really, of blood.

It’s fresh, dripping or pooling on hardwood floor.  

Cooling after leaving such vivacious, safely covered veins.

The blood’s owner is on the ground too.

 

Twitching.

 

 Fighting off the chill racing through her form.

She didn’t want this.

She wasn’t ready.

But honestly, who isn’t?

 

Anyways.

My vision continues with her fighting to live.

But then a boot wearing figure struts in.

All I see are boots since the vision is from the view of the dying chick.

Boots.  

Clicking and clacking like they own the place.

 

Her breaths are hard, but losing its bite by every second.

The boots stop.  Facing the body.

 

There’s a ‘tsking’ from the boot wearer and the girl’s dimming eyes widen.

It’s terrifying not because of the eerie silence that follows or the fear in the girl’s eyes,

But the way her eyes were sinking in her skull.  

Like she was already dead and fearing the afterlife.

She can’t really react I guess, but there’s this tension in the air like the girl wants to squirm away.

 

The boot falls on her chest firmly.  

Her breast sinks in like a head on a pillow.

More blood is seeping on the floor and it begins to soak into girl’s shirt.

 

It’s actually a sweater.

 

Cashmere. Pink.

 

Well...  

 

It was pink.