I have to write a book.
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:23pm
Thread Topic: I have to write a book.
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Mind telling me how good or bad it is?
"Dammit, Layrun. I hate you. You came without warning...You daughter of a bitch." Vincent hissed, clutching his knife fondly. A girl with pale red hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a pale skin tone was tied to a chair, her mouth taped, her wrists and ankles bleeding. Vincent walked forward. Thinking. All he had to do was slice her throat. He'd end her and the truth couldn't come out. But he wanted to speak to her. Maybe a little bit of fun.
"I loved you, you know. Before you found out my history. And you're so pretty. Why'd you do it? Why?" Vincent asked, putting the knife to her throat. She could't reply. She didn't want to. Vincent grinned. He waited a few mintues. Silence followed, then the sound of dripping. The sound of the knife slicing past skin. The man's laugh.
"I still love you. Even though you're gone." -
;~; Scary and sad but really good.
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Scary? I get the sad...but Veni's not scary. He's a crazy person who kills. And that's part one. Shall I show you part two~?
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Show.
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ALRIGHTY.
Laurent heard Vincent's voice. He didn't want to listen; But he paused at the door. Several bags stuffed with his belongings were outside, and he had his car out there. He just wanted to go. Leave. Leave the demented, damned guy alone.
"P-please, Lau-Laurent, stay. Please...Y-you're the on-only person I care about.." Vincent whispeared. He had his knife in his hand. Laurent shrinked in slight terror and glanced at his car. The two had been room mates. The had the same goal. To be friends. But they had gotten into a horrible argument, and Laurent valued his head and life more than his love for Vincent. He shook his head.
Vincent watched with utter horror as Laurent shook his head and began to his car. He had two options; Kill his one and only love, or kill himself. The damned one. Ethier way, he'd never see Laurent again. He screamed at Laurent before storming into the house. He clutched his knife tighter. He'd do what he felt to be right. No matter the cost. -
*THEY HAD THE SAME GOAL. Silly little typo.
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Hm...
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