Painted Locks: A Fictional Narrative

I was fuming. My body was alight with a hundred flames, each feeding off my anger. I was sure they could have heard me across the world. Hell! The dead could probably have heard my shouting! But none of that mattered, because it was just me and Jeremiel in that moment.
“You know, it’s okay though,” my voice softened to just a whisper. My hand released his chin to run my fingers through his greasy, blond locks. “It’s okay. I know, I’m broken. I’ll accept it. Step six out of seven of the grieving process. Although, I’ll admit, I might still be on the fifth step: anger.”
Tugging harshly on the knotted locks caught in my fingers, I leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
“Just know that, justice will be served. And, even though, I will not kill you now, I will put an end to you.”
“You can’t.” That was the only reply I received.
I stumbled over to the window, chuckling darkly to myself all the while. Looking out at the sky, I noticed it was already dusk. Where had the time gone? The day had been wasted in this confining room.
Oh, how I wished to be free. Free from this life; from this planet. I just had to be stuck on the globe with the most advanced yet most delirious of the upper species.

The black bootie heels with spikes coming out of the bad only added to her towering height. They looked impossible to walk in, but I didn’t doubt Anna’s ability to walk in them. The red and black lace corset she had on, accentuated her curves, but looked impossible to breathe in—not that Anna had to breathe. Her raven black hair was straight and fell gracefully around her face. The black smokey eye makeup made her already dark eyes seem darker and more mysterious. Her fangs were bared and poking out onto her blood red lips. She was model material. Any guy with decent vision would instantly be in love with her. Although, I would never tell her that; it would only have boosted her already large