Creative Writing: Pansy's Home

"I will be back." Eden leaned forward and sweetly kissed Chrysanthemum on the head before wrapping a thick red scarf around his neck and leaving the apartment in a scurry. He padded down the spiral of creaking steps leading to the front of the building and pushed the door open, making his way to the bus stop. Eden was on his way to Pansy's workspace; he had mentioned earlier that day he had to do a lot of paperwork alone all night and Eden thought his company would be nice. "I hope he won't think of me as a nuisance." He released, seeing his own breath; he clutched his old and 'falling to pieces' art book to his chest and bounced on the balls of his feet in the miserably cold weather. Soon enough, the bus drove up beside him and swung its doors

With every step he took, he felt his running mind coming to an end. The first thing he noticed was Pansy's car; it was a small and dark colored mustang with tinted windows and Eden can perfectly remember it always smelling like cigarettes, which pissed him off the edge. Then he took notice of the tall and dilapidated building. He walked around corner on the sidewalk front of the building when he heard low voices from behind the building. It sounded like two people were speaking in conversation, but the tone was so tinted and malicious. "C'était une erreur honnêt- je jure sur ma tombe!" Eden ambled closer to the voices when he recognized the deep and smooth voice arguing with the other. "Clearly I won't deduce to that." Eden very slowly turned to see Pansy, and the other voice; it was an averaged sized man with dark faded hair, he had obviously seen better days. He watched out of sight as the man begged on while Pansy held a gun pointed to him; he could feel Pansy get more tense with every word the man spoke. He let one more sniveling cry out before Pansy pulled the trigger without hesitation, expressionless and without a

"I do everything for you, you're going to whine about little bruises?" He snatched his wrist down tightly and howled more demanding standards into his face before aggressively pushing him into his bed frame and leaving in a pique, slamming the door behind him. Lightly, Eden pulled his messy, silvery blonde hair away from his face and sat upright on the wooden floors of his bedroom. He lifted his shirt to see the gash left on his side from the sharp end of the frame; it bleed red and ran down his body. He slowly stood up and sauntered into his bathroom. Wiping away with limited supplies at the horrid gash, he stared at his purple forming