Angel On Fire † Dark Charlie Puth FF ‡

2

Two hours, I wait and drink red wine. Two hours I wait and drink red wine so I can get the saw that I always use. My clothes are covered, and so is my floor with some plastic. Even though I lust after blood.

It is a bitch to get out of the carpet. And I already know that I am going to be up until past dawn to clean this apartment. But, it will be okay. Nameless twink is dismembered in about forty-five minutes then piece by piece tossed in my fireplace.

The body.

The fire.

The ashes. 

The flames are warm to me, as I reach out to touch one of them. It gives me a tiny burn scar whenever I put my index finger back. Off come my plastic covering of my clothes and then the clothes themselves. 

I go back to the closet to get a beat up pair of jeans, and an oversized t-shirt. And most importantly the cleaning supplies. I spent most of my time trying to find the right chemicals that were going to do the job.

I cannot afford to be sloppy. I dedicate too much time to my art to be an amateur. Whenever the sun comes up, and the apartment is rendered spotless. This part tears at me a bit. Because if I could I would let all the blood just settle. However, I cannot. 

Because I do not want to be discovered.

I take a quick shower, getting an uber back to my other apartment. I have near Times Square and that is near the place I work. It is not easy trying to keep these two identities apart. With the need for killing taking up most of my time. I also know I have to main a certain image to keep people at bay.

They would never suspect me. 

The Charlie Puth I present to the world is nothing like the one that he truly is.

A hawk looking out for his next prey. A guy that literally goes out of his way to maintain that lust to kill over and over again. The killing part eases my soul and puts my mind at ease. These voices are something I could never control nor do I want too. 

"Charlie!" My best friend Shawn greets me. He flashes that crest white smile with a black shirt that has to imagine written all over it. Oh, he would never want to know what I would imagine. And even though Shawn just sort of crept into my life like a light goes into a room. 

He is the only friend I have. 

And yet he also the only one that I keep in the shadows. 

His short brown hair is messy, and his dark eyes are always warm. Shawn has this spirit about him that draws everyone in. And he could do the one thing that I could never do. Cry. I could never in my entire life cry.

Not even whenever my parents divorced or my grandfather died. Something sad happened then I went numb and killed a stray animal. 

"I got you a Starbucks," He replies as he thrust the cup inside of my hand. "And the boss is going full ham today so you have been warned."

"He does not scare me, Shawn, nothing scares me," I reply seriously then take a sip of my coffee.

Shawn blinks at me like he wants to say something but does not. And the presence of his silence only strengthens the images of the night before. And how it would feel to watch Shawn die right in front of me.