The Blonde Killer

4. Grief

His eyes flew open, lungs taking in a sharp breath of air as soon as he sat up the birds at his window sill scattered in sudden. Cold sweat damped the dress shirt he wore, arm muscles tensing and the fast beating of his heart loud at his ear.

Weeks passed since the incident. He found the memory to be too fresh for his state. The last he could remember was the rage he had, nothing could have compared to the anger that boiled at that moment and now there he lay in a puddle of what must smell like wine and fluid that might have flooded through his pants. 

He was there. Sitting in the corner for the past few days after turning this living room into a human hazard. Water ran out of the bathroom and into the living room soaking all the pillows left scattered on the floor. The frames that hung on the walls had holes punched into, glass and dried blood. Potted plants that I cared so much, were kicked across the room while coffee mugs were randomly placed. The torn paper was dumped carelessly in every corner, the house flipped upside down. 

His eyes scanned the room, slowly looking at the works of his hands. It looked peaceful, the picture of relief in chaos. The clouds outside made the room dark. It was quiet. 

But there was something in that room that sat me on edge. My heart couldn't take the suspense of the unknown, the far sound of the church bell gonging. Another hour has passed by. 

Adrien's eyes stopped scanning, abruptly at the corner of the room. There was nothing, no one but a presence in the room. He could sense it. Feel it.

There was something about the spirit knowing what and who was in the room. A sixth sense is that you could tell that you are in the right place or that you should immediately evacuate. A sense is given to man to differentiate between good and bad. 

Of course, He could be overthinking, maybe his imagination going wild and getting the best of him. However, a low humming slowly reaching his ear shook him startled. He was on his feet at once, though they were giving up on him as he swayed on the wall for support. They felt like iron buckled around his ankles with every step he took. His breathing was heavy, it was coming from the kitchen, the humming. 

There was an attraction that pulled him and once he reached the hall frame he froze. A young woman, standing 5'5, her hair flowing down her back. She was dressed in a warm summer dress too cruel to compliment the weather outside. The cover folded into a server's apron. Her face was concealed as her back turned against him. She moved in graceful speed, fast but careful. She picked up the spoon beside her and tasted her dish. Her head slowly turned towards me, her light-shaded lips turning up on the corners. Just before he could see her face once more. It felt like now or never. To see her, feel her. Touch her. There was pulling, a yearning that both his body and soul couldn't resist. Adrien knew she was taken, he knew she wasn't his anymore, he knew she was no more. 

But if at this moment I could just seize it. 

He closed on to her, his brain telling him it wasn't right. Something wasn't right. Why she was here, of all places? but just for that time, he ignores it. I allowed my heart to take its share of what it hadn't had in weeks. Hope. 

But a fool only hopes for what is already dead. The sound of a metal fell to the ground and just like that everything suddenly made no sense.

"Y-you're not supposed to be here. Who let you in?"

She didn't respond. The blank sound of nothing hit his ears.

"Get out." He commanded, but her figure continued, gently slicing the tomatoes. Dangerously fast.

"Did you not hear me? I said leave this place."

Adrien could sense a mix of anxiety and stress, anger over the woman.