writing exercise

blhablah blah

who was that

someone knocked three times. someone knocked

again


ah they came in threes. the hooded men. face obscured by shadow. but eyes pierced through dark, red. blood red. red as his blood, splattered on the kitchen floor. the gash on his shoulder was deep. why was his breathing strained? he tried to concentrate on them, push the pain to the back of his head. how did they get inside? he glanced at her, sitting at the kitchen table. Filing her pink lacquered nails. Casual. this was not what it appeared. he was not wounded. they were not there. it was another day. she waited patiently as he finished cooking their meal. yet blood still poured, his right sleeve still wet as it flowed. and they stoof there with their devil eyes trained upon him. he could almost feel them smiling. she did nothing.

“Delila!”

She did nothing. she moved from her ring finger to her index.

“Delila! Call the cops!”

then she sighed.

“Pay what you owe.”

“What?”

“Pay. What you owe. Fool.”

Pay what he owed. he owed no one anything. he made no deals with the devil.

“What do I owe? I don’t understand!”

“Give them your heart.”

“My....my heart.”

“Mhm. Pay up, now.”

“But....why....why?”

She turned to him. Her pupils glowed red. Lips parted into a smile, teeth were pointed and jagged.

“You promised your heart to me. Now. Give it up.”

love was cruel.