A
Artsydaze
Guest
Original poster
Lawrence groaned as he woke up, his head apparently intent on killing him by crashing waves of excruciating pain all through his body, the dawning sun helping to finish him off with it's deadly rays on his sensitive eyeballs. Slowly coming to, he first turned his head away from the offending light and gingerly crawled his way out of bed, ending upcrashing to the hardwood floor he did not remember having and lookingup to a familiar woman. A bloody and apparently dead familiar woman.
Screaming in fright, he abruptly scuttled backward, hitting his head on the end table and prompting his scream to transform to one of pain midway through. Starting to hyperventilate, he looked over the room, praying for another explanation than the one he initially concluded. He was in a motel room, the flimsy curtain drawn back to a small window to his left and an half opened door leading to what appeared to be a simple bathroom in front of him. The bed, with it's bloodied headboard, laid on the opposite wall of the window.
The bloodied bed where he was once laying in with a corpse, dead to the world. Poor Danielle... his best friend would kill him if he knew...
Painfully standing back on his feet, Lawrence started pacing around the cramped room, hurriedly closing the red curtains when he thought of what would happen if someone saw inside the room. Coming up with a plan, he found the room key clumsily thrown on the floor and bundled up the corpse in the bed covers, painstakingly hauling it to his car that was fortunately nearby after making sure no one was here to witness his apparent crime. He would not go to jail for this.
Two hours, one less corpse, a new set of clothes and bedding and a thorough cleaning later, he collapsed on the bed, succumbing to sweet oblivion.
Screaming in fright, he abruptly scuttled backward, hitting his head on the end table and prompting his scream to transform to one of pain midway through. Starting to hyperventilate, he looked over the room, praying for another explanation than the one he initially concluded. He was in a motel room, the flimsy curtain drawn back to a small window to his left and an half opened door leading to what appeared to be a simple bathroom in front of him. The bed, with it's bloodied headboard, laid on the opposite wall of the window.
The bloodied bed where he was once laying in with a corpse, dead to the world. Poor Danielle... his best friend would kill him if he knew...
Painfully standing back on his feet, Lawrence started pacing around the cramped room, hurriedly closing the red curtains when he thought of what would happen if someone saw inside the room. Coming up with a plan, he found the room key clumsily thrown on the floor and bundled up the corpse in the bed covers, painstakingly hauling it to his car that was fortunately nearby after making sure no one was here to witness his apparent crime. He would not go to jail for this.
Two hours, one less corpse, a new set of clothes and bedding and a thorough cleaning later, he collapsed on the bed, succumbing to sweet oblivion.