He lay sprawled across the blood-soaked floor some stains dry and old, others fresh and warm playing with his dagger, eyes fixed on the ceiling where a few cracks snaked through the plaster.
From the center of that decaying ceiling hung an old lightbulb, swaying slightly, as if it were contemplating suicide, casting a dim, sickly glow across the filthy room that reeked of rot.
A few insects buzzed lazily toward the flickering light.
He turned his head slowly, eyes shifting toward the figure lying beside him.
"You're ignoring me too, huh?!"
He laughed mockingly, a sharp, unsettling sound.
"Ahh, right. I forgot you're a corpse now. You can't talk. Don't worry, I never liked talking to people like you anyway."
He rose from the cold floor, slipping into a new set of clothes placed neatly in front of him, eyes admiring his twisted masterpiece.
A body, torn and mutilated wounds and scars etched across its flesh like morbid brushstrokes.
Fingers severed and scattered across the room.
His intestines spilled outward from the slit in his abdomen.
His mouth hung open, dripping blood from the place where his tongue had once been.
One of his legs had been dislocated and repositioned unnaturally.
The corpse's eyes remained wide open, vacant, as flies danced across them.
He tossed an empty cigarette pack onto the body.
"You really didn't have to scream like that."
He stepped out of the abandoned building, a half-empty bottle of liquor clutched in one hand, a cigarette burning between his lips. He dragged his fingers through his raven-black hair, exhaling smoke that wrapped itself around him like a veil.
He walked aimlessly through the quiet street, its dim lampposts flickering under the drizzle.
I turned around, staggering slightly, laughing hysterically at the two men approaching me. One of them drew a knife and pointed it at my side.
"Give us everything you've got, or tell your life goodbye, you freak!"
I turned away from them again and kept walking, still swaying with every step until I felt the blade pierce deep into my gut.
The other guy screamed, "What the hell did you do?! You idiot, run! RUN!"
I spun back around, landing a punch to one of them that knocked him to the ground. I grabbed the other by the collar, slamming my fist into his mouth until blood spilled from his lips.
"You know what? I don't have time for you right now... maybe later!"
I dropped him, glaring at their faces before continuing down the street, ignoring the pain I was used to it. It had become a light routine to my heart.
I opened my eyes as soft touches pressed against my face and lips. Music throbbed through my ears, low and pulsating.
I clutched my head, pressing hard, trying to silence the headache, trying to tear it out of my skull.
My gaze drifted to the woman sitting beside me in that dim room, her long fingers brushing across my lips as she bit her own seductively.
"You need help, handsome? You're already bleeding."
She cooed in that fake voice as her fingers slid down to my chest.
I snapped out of my haze, springing up and shoving her away in anger. She landed on the floor with a groan.
"What's wrong, sexy? Why so rough? Don't like romance?"
"Damn it!" I shouted, pushing the door open, assaulted by the booming music that only worsened my headache.
"What the hell am I doing here?! Damn you, Jon! Damn it all!"
I ran out of the place, brushing past the girls trying to stop me, their voices fading behind me.
Outside the club, I drew the dagger I always carried. I stabbed it into my thigh, screaming in fury, speaking to myself through clenched teeth:
"What brought you here, you filthy bastard?! You deserve worse than this! How could you let them touch you like that?!"
I pulled the dagger out and stabbed again.
"You deserve more, you traitorous piece of shit… I don't deserve her… I don't!"
I dropped to my knees, eyes fixed on the void, fists pounding the wound as regret carved deeper than the blade.
I stood, head bowed, and walked toward her.
There was no one else. Just her. Only her.
Whenever the world turned against him, he went to her.
He stood outside the door of the apartment, hidden in the shadows of the old building. He slid a sharp tool into the keyhole. A dull click echoed in the silence.
He kicked off his mud-covered shoes, stepping inside barefoot.
He moved quietly down the hallway toward her room.
Then a shadow moved toward him.
"Are you a deaf moron?! A dumb animal?! How many damn times do I have to tell you not to sneak in like this?!"
I turned my head to face her I had no energy left to argue.
I raised my hand and gently pushed her aside.
"Move, Kinji... I'm not in the mood to fight."
I watched him sneak into her room again.
That idiot.
I'd told him a thousand no, a million times to stay away, to never even try sneaking in.
But he never stopped.
I walked quickly toward him, venting every word I had stored up... then paused.
He had pushed me gently.
He was covered in blood… even his face.
I backed away, heading to my own room.
There was no point arguing anymore.
I knew now he needed to be near her.
So I left him...
And decided not to interfere anymore.
He would never hurt her.
He loved her more than he loved himself.
He entered her room.
She lay there on that small bed, wrapped in a white blanket, hugging something soft close to her chest.
The window was left open, letting the moonlight spill in and bathe her in its silver glow.
He approached, eyes drinking in her serene features... captivating, even in sleep.
Her long lashes framed her closed eyes like curtains.
He ran a rough finger down the bridge of her nose, feeling her warm skin.
He stood still, gazing at her for a long time...
Then wiped away the salty trails that had fallen from his eyes with the back of his calloused hand.
He walked to the window, shut it gently to block out the cold air.
Then left the room...
Then the apartment...
Then the whole building.
I feel my soul tearing apart... without you...