acid - s.black

1%.

Before

Everything was calm, peaceful. His business went about as usual, as it did when he had work to do. He hadn't been assigned anything too difficult, though what's fun without a little effort?

This specific occupation wasn't exactly been his first option. In fact, he thought this job was strictly for movie plots and novels - something explicitly fictional. But it indeed was a profession that he eventually took up-

-And he enjoyed it. Quite a bit, if he was totally honest. He was able to travel all over the world at no expense and visit the places he dreamed of being in, meet new people and learn from them, likewise the added attraction he received. These additional luxuries made it all the more appealing after contemplating the iniquities and their overall cost on him.

Those were quickly neglected after his first assignment.

His work, however, did come at the small price of the occasional scrape or gouge; nothing that couldn't be patched up or quickly stitched. By now, he'd be surprised to see himself leaving unscathed.

His work was sweet, like fresh sugar. Like homemade cookies. Like a candy shop.

His work was twisted, like pouring the sugar on the ground. Like burning the cookies. Like taking candy from a child.

His work was cruel, and he loved every minute of it. The rush of adrenaline was equal to a high, and he wouldn't trade it in for all the world.

He got to do it alone, where he could plan out and execute the work himself; how he liked it. Something about total control implored him greatly. Besides, why would he want a partner to drag him down and have the chance of ruining the scheme? It seemed preposterous, to have someone work alongside him that would disturb his workflow. To him it was simply inhumane, even whilst compared to the tasks at hand.

Lonely, on the other hand, was not something he found himself to be often. Always occupied by the thrashing night-life of everywhere he went, numerous late-night trips to the local bar, and surrounding himself with women suited the inside feeling of homesickness he felt sporadically.

He couldn't imagine himself in any other position. He was good at what he did, an expert if you will. He was a hurricane; blowing down everything that dared get in his path, wreaking havoc if he felt he needed to, a thunderstorm of a temper was housed inside him, waiting for the right tick to set him off and unleash a flood.

Has he got a heart? Certainly. Though they're back home, unknowing of what perils he faces, his best friends wait patiently and eagerly for his return. The one he loves is back home, too. Buried six feet under the ground, set in a casket of polished wood, in an elegant dress of white silk. He vowed never again would he fall in love as passionately as he did. Too much of a risk.

She was the light; a pale face that radiated beauty, and with every move she was graceful. Her sun dyed brown hair shaped her heart face and trailed behind her like a veil. Her hands were soft and scented lavender and they made the most beautiful pottery anyone could fathom. Her voice was the silk that she lay in now, smooth and flowing like a stream in summer. Her words were dipped in honey and everything that came out of her mouth was pure. Nothing about her wasn't perfect. She was his queen; his antidote to the acid that he had become infused with.

Those bastards took her from me.

Hope they plan on paying for the funeral.