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my death is the end of all good intention

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his eyes matched the colours of the essence that leaked from his dying and heaving chest.

 

they were red. as red as the anger that poured from his mouth, as he cursed and insulted his mockery of a lover, but his fling ran out of the room in fear, and alec then truly felt lonely.

 

his blood was thick, red and tasted of metal, but it was comforting, for it was a feeling he wished to bathe in for the rest of his mortal life,

and now, he's able.

 

why? why was this happening to him? he was doing what he was destined to do. that...boy...that kept communicating with alec's boyfriend was surely a fool. he was supposed to be disposed of, so alec could live happily with the one who stole his heart, and whispered soft reassurance into his beating ears.

 

the corpse beside him wasn't real. he was sent by the devil. to compete. well, he had lost, but now, alec can feel his lungs fill with the red sea of blood, and he's now losing his title of victorious.

 

to him....murder had been acceptable! it was to get rid of pests permanently! it had worked so well! his plan would've went through if his boyfriend would have just listened!

 

so why was he here, lying, suffering, for someone else? why were his lungs betraying him, by cutting off the oxygen and allowing the red eyed boy to choke on his own life? why would the law enforcement come and potentially take him away, if he was still up and lacking injury, to cage him away from his lover, like his parents had done?

 

he did not know. but he knew, for sure, that he was not capable of receiving affection, if this was to occur. love was now a dangerous topic to him. it hurt.

 

but he didn't know what hurt the most. the stabbing feeling in his chest, a kitchen knife being its contributor, or the fact that he was no longer loved by someone he would burn the world for?

 

the blood that puddled onto the floor surrounded alec's head, much like a gory halo, and he could feel a faint feeling of anger. his dyed, purple hair is now tainted by his own disgusting proof of existence.

 

when the anger washed away, he felt a flooding feeling in his chest. it wasn't the blood. oh no, not that.

 

he wouldn't admit this. ever. but alec, was scared.

 

of what? he didn't know. he knew death would come to him eventually. he's taunted the grim reaper before. it wasn't that. 

 

it was the haunting fact, that if he left, where would he go?

 

surely, there is no heaven for him here. nor hell. purgatory is a mockery of judgement to him. his soul is far too gone, far too cursed to be tortured even more. torches? he's seen that. fire pits? turn the heat up; he wants to feel the licks of flame against his skin.

 

 

with his limited breaths and strength, he turns his head to the carrion beside him, and smirks. "well, you fucking dirtbag," alec uses all of the strength he has left to lay on top of the horridly deformed corpse, and he takes the greying hand. he lays it on top of his bloodied chest, and pats it. "we both suffered today. you're lucky i even did this...for the likes of you, you disgrace."

alec huffs out a laugh, and with that,

 

he lets out a dying breath; his ears blocking out the noises of sirens outside. 

 

 

 

[fin.]