The distasteful and unsightly puddle of fresh blood had stained the coarse linens of the motel bed, completely immersing its floral designs with a mutilated pattern of its own. Death and decay had once again doused Soren in an exhilaratingly baleful ambience. His brawny chest, bare, with crimson fluids blemishing across his colorless skin, heaved up and down, breaths scratching against his throat as he stared upon the dead body lain along the mattress.
It was the girl, with lush golden locks and soft bouncy curls, with big innocent blue orbs and a cute naïve little smile. That royal blue tank top and black cottoned skirt still could be seen hanging in shreds off her lifeless cadaver.
The expression plastered across her waxen façade was one intertwined with pure enmity and horror. Her eyes were wide and glassy, revealing the monstrosity of fear that had overwhelmed her before her fatal passing. Her corpse had been drained dry, leaving only skin and bones, the form of it misshapen and grotesque. Her carcass crippled into a disfigured manner, her arms stiffening at odd angles and her legs askew from their joints. Dark bruises could be made out as fingerprints all along the sides of her torso and neck, where it appeared as if she were suffocated. Her skin was not even a natural hue; it was a ghastly green shade, like the vomit of a pregnant woman who just had guacamole.
What was probably the most demoralizing aspect of the female's appearance was the smile on her lips. Although, many could argue that it was far from a smile. Her jaw had been dislocated in the process of her murder; her mouth hung off the torn ligaments of her cavities. They were spread, a gaping hole, the clear taste of Demise upon her shriveled tongue. A silent scream could be heard echoing from her dehisced lips. Yet, despite the shrilling manifestation of her orifice, the corners of her mouth were still twitched up in a deranged grin.
Soren had walked noiselessly to the bathroom, his movements nimble and swift as he pulled one of the white towelettes hanging off the metal bar near the oval mirror. Flipping the faucet on, he allowed the water to run until a light and airy steam lifted into the cold atmosphere. There, he dipped the entire cloth beneath the stream until it was completely soaked, before pressing it to his torso and swabbing off the blood that was beginning to dry. He had worked rapidly, getting most of the stigma off.
Tossing the rag mindlessly into the trash, he had walked back out into the main room. The body was still upon the bed, unmoving, her head propped up against the pillow, hollow eyes following him.
The man leered to her through his burgundy locks, giving her a charming smile, before the words of the Arabian Proverbs had left him in a disdained whisper.
"Do not stand in a place of danger, trusting in miracles."
And with that, he took his jacket from the armrest of the loveseat near the night table and slipped it over his chest. After pulling up his black collar, he headed for the door, using the side of his leather shoes to prop it open before taking a silver lighter from his pocket. As he flicked its lid open, a brilliant orange flame ignited between his fingers. Giving one last enthralling gaze to the life he had extinguished, he hurled the lighter to the mattress where it instantly came ablaze, engulfing the cadaver upon it within seconds. Rotting flesh and cinders had roused in a cloud of smoke.
He turned from the fiery scene, closing the door behind him, a dark smirk lacing his lips while he walked over the pavement of the empty parking lot and crossed the street, disappearing into the shadows, as the perilous cries of languish seeped into the somber horizons.
