Work Text:
“Columbia?”
Vincent questioned to the empty room, nothing above a whisper. He could hear light foot steps walking throughout the house, wood panels creaking with each careful step.
He sits up, looking around the room as the footsteps near. Feather pillows fluff up with the loss of his weight bearing down onto them. The light tapping on the floorboards soon turn to heavy thuds. He rises quickly setting his feet off of the bed onto the cold floor beneath him. Vincent reaches for the lamp, yet he finds himself shoved back onto the bed violently. His head hitting the headboard with a hard thud.
“Fuck”
He groans, wiping at the back of his head just before feeling a sharp pain in his chest. And he feels this pain again, and again, until he finds himself unable to move. Red gore covers the bed in a thick layer. His chest is hardly comprehensible, as an axe wails on him without hesitation, each strike more savage than the last. She aims once for his face, leaving a massive wound open revealing his skull as brain matter hits the wall. His body is left mangled, nothing of what it used to be. His rib cage, now shattered and torn reveals his beaten lungs and heart, which is now no longer beating.