the heavy scent of pennies had invaded her nostrils the very moment she’d entered the room, the smell alone having should’ve been enough to tip her off, to sound an alarm in her head to turn back. of course, there is no proper way to react when stumbling upon an act such as this. crimson pools at her feet, but alanis doesn’t DARE move. she’s frozen, blood gone cold while the warmth of somebody else’s can be s e e n pluming from their open wounds. she’ll wonder if she could paint a bloody portrait of a scene mirroring this one : a dead man collapsed on the hardwood floor. only illuminated by moonlight pouring in from a window, shadow of the man who’d just murdered him cast over his corpse. and she thinks, it’d be beautiful. knees quake and threaten to give out from under her. face pale with terror, some of which inspired by her own gruesome ideas, she looks towards the remaining other, handsome features splattered with RED, RED, RED. “ kieran ... ” tone is practically i n a u d i b l e, a whisper from a ghost, though her heart remained thumping. “ it’s okay. ” she’s not sure what it she’s referring to --- the missed calls and ignored texts, or the mess laid out before them, but either way it’s certainly not okay.
