Origin Of Sin

4. Goodbye, Angel

CHAPTER 4  GOODBYE, ANGEL

"OH MY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED- OH MY SHIT, ARE YOU DEAD- ARE THEY DE- WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!" I screamed out the end of my hysteria. Like the man, I was taking choppy breaths too. I tried to fan myself, I needed to get control. I ran a hand over my face, through my hair and pushed it out of my face. I pulled in a slow, cold breath. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Breathe. The longer I stand and do nothing, the worse this will be.

Yes, control. We need to do something.

After a quick pep talk, I looked back to the couch to only see two of the three corpses staring back in my direction, wiping their eyes and faces.

And reasonably so, I let out another scream.

"Oh! My! Shit! Shut the fuck up will ya, I'm hungover damn it!" A blonde threatened, standing up with a growl and very intimidating glare towards me before going into the kitchen. She was naked except for a battered bra. On her way there she cursed, nearly tripping over another girl that murmured nonsensical apologies. The room was waking up now, more girls were waking up, some murmuring some still saying quiet, most migrating to the kitchen and were raiding Davena's cabinets.

I just couldn't contain my shock? Did my screaming hysteria revive the dead? Am I a direct descendant of Jesus himself?

Or, here's just a thought so stay with me, They. Weren't. Dead- in the first place. How's that for an idea!

Yes, obviously they weren't dead. But that doesn't explain why they were so dead like. People don't sleep like that. So comatose. I could swear their chest wasn't moving to breathe and they were so limp. I carefully tiptoed over to the man on the ground, sparing him a quick glance to see him still breathing, giving shuttering breaths.

I hesitantly approached a girl that was still on the couch, the last to wake up of the three of them that once sat there. She was nursing a cigarette, puffing out smoke leisurely. She had long dark brown hair that was wavy. Her skin was a light tan brown, she looked Spanish or South American.

"Umm, hi. Are you alright?" I question hesitantly. My voice was low, I don't think the kitchen girls, whose chatter was developing into an argument, could hear me.

"I have a fucking searing headache but I'm fine.. if anything I feel good." The girl moaned out, flinging her head to the back of the coach and sucking in a long line before whistling out a puff of smoke into the ceiling. The hand not holding a cigarette move, in a sensual way, up her chest, past her breast and to her neck where two bite marks on her pulse throbbed and hickies on her neck dance. She shivered as her hand ran over them.

"So.. uh... what happened last night." I felt weirdly awkward being the only women in the room that were fully clothed. I did my best to keep eye contact but the woman had two huge shiny piercings on her A-cupped nipples and they were screaming for attention.

She nodded her head to the man on the floor at the door. Maybe I was seeing things but from this angle, with the background of the black door, I thought I saw smoke or vapor rising off of him. As I looked closer I noticed his breaths were slowing down. I guess I needed to hurry.

"He happened. Christ, what a fucking sex god. This was probably my best orgy, no- my single best fūck of my life. He just... never stopped. Never slowed down. That dudes' insatiable." She murmured the last bit to herself and took another draw. Her eyes flickered over me unexpectedly and I cringed under their surprisingly apparent scrutiny. I could never imagine myself talking the way this girl does about... about... her sexual escapes like they were vacation trips. Arent, they meant to be more sacred than that? Special? Like an expensive meal, not a quick sugary snack?