He stood alone, in a nondescript room. Raven black hair contrasting sharply against his pale white skin. He has a thin build, but is strong despite his looks. His almost black eyes stare blankly into space as he waits for his company. The door opens and she walks in. She also has black hair, and pale skin. But her eyes are a light brown colour, and though she is thin she isn't as strong as she could be. They're both fairly young. She is wearing an elegant maroon dress, and he a formal coat with jeans and a button-up top, all of them black. She walks up to him, a small smile playing on her lips as she slowly circles him, appraising him. She stops circling him once they are face to face, and mere inches apart. He can smell her sweet breath, and raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her. Her smile fades as she looks into his eyes and sees the pain, can see why he wants death. They've known each other a long long time, and she is the only one that is able to read his complex facial expressions. No-one but her understands him. And she wants to help in the only way help can be given. Words are exchanged through looks as these two stand facing each other for what seems like an age. Then she moves. Moves closer to him, and gently pushes him back onto the plush chair behind him. He sinks into the chair, still staring into her eyes. Slowly she sits astride his lap, with one leg on either side of his legs. They continue looking at each other like that for a minute more. Then she pickes up the 1930s vintage Enfeild revolver from the side table next to the chair. She gently places the end of the barrel against his left temple and as he looked down she watched the expression on his face change from emotionless to a sort of... bloodthirsty, longing expression. He looked back up into her brown eyes and saw that she understood. There were no words to describe the connection between them. They are so similair that they understand each other without speaking. She cocked the hammer of the revolver, and the expression flitted over his face again. Whenever she saw the expression on his facr she felt... different. It was as though the world had tortured him personally, and all he wanted was out. As though the world was as harsh as it always seemed. As though she was spinning out of control and no-one could stop her, but that felt good in a twisted sort of way. He wanted to die. And she would help. Millions of thoughts passed through her head, and, somehow, he understood what she was thinking, just by looking into her eyes. Then she was calm, just like him. She looked into his eyes one last time, savouring the connection they shared, then pulled the trigger.
evil-jessjess Community Member 
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