Pecking Order

He doesn’t want to let go.

He doesn’t want to move beyond this life.

But the dark circles under his eyes allow her vision to hoan in upon the wrinkled subjugation there.

Lies.

Laying with strangers? They call them bedfellows.

She called them dead.

Another unawoken soul, another empty head. Raya moved like the shadows upon her heels, the night swarmed around them and as time stood still..

A silver blade fashed.

And descended.

Give him a puncture, perhaps he’ll be able to convey the terrible wreched pain within through these holes.

Should she create more?

She does, she does. A fixated stare upon the blackness of his shirt as the wet liquid spreads.

Another flash of shining metal against the inattentive lamplight.

People died often enough on the Vegas streets. How the targed had been aqquired wasn’t known to her.

How it was dispatched? That was all finess, darling.

Licking the blood from her fingers, she peeled the knife from her hand and crouched over the barely breathing figure beneath her.

To his eyes, she must seem a beautiful sight.

Apparently he had energy enough to reach for her. She evaded.

“It’s a pity you’re fighting blind.” Raya murmured, watching the light go from his eyes. “I never liked it, you know.”

Why did they all have to wear such magnificent shirts? The buttons on them were shiny, a red affair which no doubt caught her eyes.

But she surveyed them and was able to retain the memories of her mission at hand rather than succumb.

An addiction which could be fed another time.

Raya grimaced when the mans eyes lifed and the scattered thoughts behind them were no longer strong enough to be conveyed verbally. She had some idea of what he was thinking though, they were all thoughts which had been created before.

“Sleep, sleep, sleep.” She said. Poking out both brown orbs with long red nails.

They stuck in there, she had to jerk her hand violently backwards to have them lose.

It made her giggle, the sound of it.

Could he be on the verge?

There was a lightness in the shadow, a crack in the container - he was about to bloom. She’d gotten here just in time.

“Can I have your autograph, Mister?” 

Blind and in the dark again, a flowering smile blossomed o’re lilly cheeks. She smiled and stood, leaving the hapless body in it’s walkway to the stairs. Her gloves could be ditched elsewhere, why leave them more evidence?

The bodies were left in conspicuous places deliberately.

They were to be found.

Spied on. Taken apart.

She envisioned this one’s chest being opened, the ribcage cracked, breast bone sawed in half. “Snap, crackle, pop, dead fairy.” She sang.

It was a pity that the guy didn’t have much in the way of a history, his future was sadly lacking and in as much Raya had hoped that his life had been worth something to someone at least.

Would there be tears and a funeral?

She would attend, with buttons on.