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The house was always silent, and serene at this time. Nothing could be heard aside from the gentle wind, and a man’s continuous typing. The keys on his computer letting out a small click, echoing throughout the hollow thing they call home.
Trev looks at the grandfather clock- his wife’s favorite antique, an heirloom she received from her late grandmother. He watches as the hands of the clock reach 2. He hums, wondering where his dearest wife could be, she was never out this late, she was never one to enjoy staying out anyway.
He pays no mind to the cold switch of the wind, and goes back to typing on his computer. Trying to find the best words to describe the scenario in mind. Trev was a murder mystery writer, often criticized for his love of violence, and gore. Some say he romanticizes it; he says he sees the beauty in it.
It takes skill to describe the anatomy of murder after all.
Although, he often struggles to find the right words for it. Listening to podcasts, and reading about it wasn’t enough, he needed... inspiration.
As the clock’s hands stop on 2:07, light footsteps could be heard all throughout the manor. Dead flowers resurrecting at the sight of her, only to wilt a minute later.
A woman opens the door to Trev’s office, her scent of vanilla mixed with the subtle scent of iron. Cesia smiles as she looks at her husband working away.
“This one’s a pretty one, love.” Purple eyes brightening, she steps towards him, eager to show her new find.
Looking up at the sound of his wife’s voice, Trev immediately stops typing. A small smile spreads on his face as he sees Cesia.
“Busy?” Cesia asks
“Not really.” He lies. She rolls her eyes at her husband’s obviousness.
“What?”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Well, if lying means I get to spend some time with you, then I’ll happily die as one.”
Trev stands up, and approaches Cesia- who looked like she had a rough night. Urging her to sit, he takes off her high heels, while she rests on his office’s maroon couch.
“You should really stop wearing these all time, your feet will hurt.” He says.
Cesia frowns “Eh regalo ‘to galing sayo eh, so of course I’ll wear them!”
Trev laughs at his wife’s antics. “Just don’t hurt yourself.”
“Oo na.”
They stare there for a while. Resting their heads on each other, both exhausted from their day.
“Ah, I almost forgot, Yung regalo ko pala sayo!” Cesia suddenly stands up, making Trev almost fall off the couch.
“What is it?”
“Sus kunyari ka pang di mo alam.”
Cesia slowly drags what seems to be a fresh corpse, blood still running from the human’s temple. Trev smiles, watching his wife with fascination as she excitedly drags around the body into his office.
“I’ve noticed you were having a hard time writing these days, and since binan ka ulit sa crime scenes, naisipan ko maghanap ulit. Pretty, right?” She points to the dead man.
The man was indeed beautiful despite only having half his face left. He had nice auburn hair, and a tall figure.
“I’m sorry that only half his face is left, na bored kasi ako eh...” Cesia says with a bit of sadness in her voice.
“It’s okay, love. I know how you love tearing some of their skin away.” He smiles, Trev was immensely grateful for his wife, he was used to getting these kinds of gifts from her, he was a visual learner after all, he needed… real things to work with, which often lead to sparks of inspiration, fueling his mind with new scenarios to write.
He couldn’t have asked for a better wife. No one could truly be a better person than her.
“Nag overtime ako sa trabaho, alam kong kailangan mo ng inspiration eh.” She sweetly smiles
Trev softly stares at her, though he may get inspiration from live corpses, what his wife didn’t know, that his greatest inspiration was the look of joy on her face as she touched the cold skin of her victims. Nothing in this world could compare at the sight of her beaming, despite the monstrous amount of blood on her face.
“Come here.” He says, hugging her wife, she smelled metallic… she smelled addicting.
“Trev may dugo pa sa mukha at buhok ko…”
“I know.” He hugged her closer. “You talk as if you didn’t almost fall asleep on my shoulder earlier."
“Are you reconsidering marrying a serial killer then? Hm? Masyado bang nakakasawa ang amoy ng dugo?”
“Oo.” He says.
“Eh di mag fafile na ako ng annulment!” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m kidding, mas gusto ko yung amoy ng dugo mo.”
“Kinky mo naman pala.”
“Baliw.” He flicks a finger on her forehead.
“Trev!” Cesia laughs and runs off to the body.
Trev follows closely and they both inspect it together.
“Where did you find him?”
“Hindi ko alam, at wala rin akong pakealam. Basta alam kong maganda siyang regalo.” She smiles at him, Trev’s spine chills as he looks at the eerie aura around his ethereal wife.
Gods, he loves her so much.
He dips his hand on the pool of blood surrounding the corpse, and draws a heart on Cesia’s cheek.
“Cute.” He smiles.
Cesia laughs and does the same, dipping her hand in blood, making a small heart on her husband’s cheek.
His heart warms at the sound of her laugh, it beats rapidly, as if it was nonexistent before her existence.
It was addicting, it pained him, so so much. The mere sound of it makes him want to stab himself.
She looks at her with a sincere look
And a mere look from her makes him want to jump off a building.
She both kills and brings him back to life. It was like touching a rose, the essence of it giving you endless joy, that you don’t mind dying by its thorns.
If Cesia Young were prescription pills, he might as well be suicidal.
They exit his office and retire for the night. Trev looks back at the hallway, no trace of blood on the carpets, he wonders how it could be possible, but he refuses to question it anyway.
As their hands intertwine, Trev decides that he will not die by any other hand, other than the one he’s holding now.