tears rolled down her pale porcelain cheeks, her lower lip trembled as she stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. her heart felt like it was about to puncture a hole through her ribs, damaging her thin frame which was already bruised and battered. the bruises were her decoration, not something she hid, not something that came from abuse, but rather from love.

a scream shattered across the room, breaking the peaceful silence, unnoticeable to the city around her, but a sharp cut through the apartment’s normally tranquil state.

she sobbed and pulled at the skin around her hands, clawing at it with her painted peach-coloured nails, trying to convince herself that this is not the reality she was in, not the reality that deserved her.

the bed shifted and she stood up, cradling herself quietly as she walked over to the dresser.
a circular vintage-looking powder case was lifted from the drawer, shining a golden hue, seeming like a prized treasure to the young woman.

white lines are formed along the black mahogany dresser, creating a perfect contrast between light and dark.
this was what she wanted. what she needed. this is what made her smile.

when he wasn’t there,
she’d click her tongue,
seek warmth in her sheets,
wander around their home,
play with his favourite camera,
cry at the thought of him being angry,

panicking, breathing heavy, heart-racing and full of angst.

no, snow didn’t make her happy.
her sunshine did.

-

she woke up the next morning, her vision slightly blurring from burying herself face-first into the sea of cushions and blankets spread all over their bed.

“angel, you really need to stop turning to snow whenever you get lonely.”

something echoed from the bathroom next door. it’s a strong and masculine voice, reassuring her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. she smiled and grabbed a blanket, throwing it over her nimble frame as she walked towards the brightly-lit doorway.

“i’m sorry, miku.”

miku, the name she so adored. it rolled on her tongue like a sweet piece of jelly, soothing and rewarding. he loved her back just as much; whether it was her joyful smile whenever she accomplished something, her laughter when she failed, the determined glint in her eyes and most of all her sweet, almost-chaste kisses she gave him every single day.

“maria, i need your help.”

“with what?”

her voice curious, yet laced with slight worry.
their eyes met, his gaze softened. he turned and placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it thoughtfully.

“with a small job. something that would be fun to do together. i even got you a special present.” he gestured toward a small black case placed on the kitchen table. maria noticed that he had placed freshly bought roses in a vase on the table beside it as well.

the case revealed two bright-pink, shiny new Glocks, polished to perfection. maria let out an excited squeal before hugging mikula.

“come on now sweetie, we have to go.”

-

by the time they got back, it was already midnight. mikula wanted to sleep, tired from the night of blood and debauchery. maria on the other hand, was psyched up from the violence and excitement. she loved spending time with mikula as well as witnessing the art of his work.

the sight of the man squirming below mikula, trying to push the boot off which was crushing his chest, really excited maria. the way mikula scoffed at the man’s pleads for mercy, the way he scowled at the bargain for a higher lump sum of money in exchange for his target’s life. the way his pale grey eyes flashed with anger at the man for referring to her as a “sleezy ****** *****”.

“do i look like the kind of man that would be with a sleezy *****?”

the man didn’t answer, he could not muster the strength, let alone the courage to utter a single word.

“my sweet maria is not sleezy and she is definitely not a *****.” he pauses briefly, cocking the gun and pointing towards the man.

the man’s eyes widened in fear as mikula reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink switchblade, flicking it open and handing it to maria.

“i forgot to give you this little present, on top of those custom guns i ordered in.”

mikula watched her grin from ear to ear, studying the sharp object in her hand. it glistened in the dim light, making her heart thump with excitement. she heard music in her head as she kneeled down, the twisted smile growing wider and wider.

♫ babe you can see that I'm danger
glamorous but I'm deranged, yeah
teetering off of the stage, yeah
i said it really nicely so can you be my savior? ♫ *

a manical scream escaped her throat.
when she looked up and saw mikula smiling at her, it felt like the blood that had tainted her clothes was invisible ink.
her tongue glided across the surface of her lips, before spitting the mix of saliva and crimson onto the floor beside her.

♫ is it wro-wrong that I think it's kinda fun
when I hit you in the back of the head with a gun?
my daddy's in the trunk of his brand new truck
i really want him back, but I'm kinda outta luck. ♫