WARNING: This chapter has extremely graphic depictions of violence.
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Sitting cross-legged on the roof of an abandoned house, Grell looked down at the busy Londoners. Always rushing to attend to affairs, bustling to business, caring for children – they always had something to do, hm?
For once, Grell wasn't overthinking. In fact, she was thinking of nothing at all. Last night had shaken her deeply, leaving her disturbed yet pleasured, in an odd way.
She'd heard the tearing of muscle in the early morning, before dawn had even broken. True to her duty, she had sprinted towards the scene.
A well-figured woman had lain bleeding from her neck on the crude cobblestone, her clothes disturbed and layers tangled. And beside her, another figure in a black women's overcoat had stood stiff and unmoving.
She'd clutched a shining scalpel in her hand. Blood had been splattered throughout her hair, accentuating its deep hue - blood made everything seem just a bit better, didn't it?
Behind her was a surgeon's kit that had been fitted with an arrangement of knives, scalpels, surgical scissors, bone saws, and a collection of other blades - beautiful, tempting toys.
The late August winds had whipped her clothes about her body. Grell had silently prowled to the other side of the roof to get a better glimpse of the scene. She'd immediately regretted it.
The killer was the woman from the tailor's shop.
The murderess had looked devastating. Her eyes had been alight with madness, her mouth contorted into an awful grin. She then had hesitated no longer and plunged her scalpel into the victim's flesh once again. The woman had torn the knife across the neck so gracelessly the victim's head almost fell off.
Grell had gagged and ducked behind the roof. She'd waited for her breathing to slow, but it remained fluttering and frantic like a butterfly trapped in a spider's web. Her forehead had been slick with perspiration and her lips dry and disgusting. She'd felt sick to her stomach, her lungs heaving with effort – but she had enjoyed it.
And despite the horrible feeling the sight gave her, she'd lifted her head and opened her eyes to watch more.
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An Indifferent Attitude Towards Murder
Fanfiction"Certainly not Grell's idea of real fun - bloodshed was entertaining to twisted creatures like them, who saw through shattered glass, so only the worst parts of reality were visible - but it was unexpected, and that was what made Angelina so compell...
