Deep red blossoms to the top, spewing over the I pry skin that was holding it back. It was a dangerously beautiful color contrast that makes the mouth water with lust. The cut of a steely blade brings on a moan of desire, a fiery passion for killing. The blood gently lands on his finger and slides down ever so slowly. His lips graze his finger tip, the irony taste of blood tickles his taste buds. The smell makes him light headed as would a beautiful perfume. He pulls out a small vile concealed by his coat and fills it with the beautiful shade of red. A small whimper comes out, but he does nothing as so much as glance at the girls face whom would surely die soon if not later. The crimson lies on top of another liquid that appears clear in the vile. Satisfied with the amount, he screwed on the cap and shook the liquids until they formed a wonderful pink hue. Raising up from the uncomfortable squatting position, he walked over to a table hidden by the dark shadows. The girl began to try and move, but realized that she was locked in place and began to panic. She tried to whimper, tried to show death that she wasn't going to go down without raising hell first. But she knew she was slipping away, her vision had blurred and her body was growing cold. The man turned towards her and smiled. The pink liquid was in a new bottle of some sorts. "Don't worry," he turned to walk back up the stairs. "You will make a lovely perfume Rose." The girl began to cry hysterically,"what a shame." He rested his hand on a switch,"water only makes electricity more painful my dear." He pulled down the switch and turned to leave. She began to froth at the mouth and a howl pierced the night sky; a howl that made him smile to himself. He took out the bottle and breathed in the perfume deeply. "Rose scented."