Ugly || Kris & Angela
[TW: Drug Use, Sexual Assault, Bodily Harm]
The sun was going down, a soft orange glow setting on the dry puke-yellow dying grass surrounding a single rotting wooded door planted in the ground. Kris knew the location well, a place he hadn't even brought James to. The abandoned root cellar, that seemed to grow old with the rest of sparsely populated void in Bentley, sat nestled perfectly in a remote location surrounded by nothing but the sound of summer beetles and lightning bugs. Kris knew the area well, and it filled him with a strange sense of childhood nostalgia. Memories like the time he woke up his little sister in the middle of the night, steering her tired and frail body to the abandoned location before handing her a shovel and telling her to start digging, telling her she wasn't going to get to go home.
A somber tune covered in heavy bass and laced with whiney and depressed lyrics filled Kris' ear buds as he pulled back the wooded door of the cellar. Kris had been preparing since the moment he left Angela. After all, this wasn't just some doe eyed teen he had lured in with the promise of a good time, whatever that meant, this was Angela; James' Angela. He couldn't kill her, he knew that much, but somehow the premise of pushing himself to that line only to have to pull himself back excited Kris. It caused his blood to rush through his body, and his normally calm heart beat to quicken.
As he descended the stairs he, leaving behind an open door for Angela, a small grin traced his lips- A grin that would be undetectable to the naked eye unless specifically being looked for. It was in that moment that Kristopher decided he didn't care if the mere thought of his impending actions could ruin his relationship with James. This was for him, for his art.
Entering the small dirt room, Kris pulled the cord to the single light that flickered in the center of the room. For this shoot he decided not to bring in his own lights, relying on the ancient lightbulb and a weak flash attached to his camera- Film, never digital. As the room was illuminated, Kris took a mental inventory of the items he had brought down to the room, some recently brought down, others brought down for his boyhood games.
Sitting on the shelves to his left where his tools; Various knives ranging in size and blade type, in case he was feeling especially fancy, first aid essentials like disinfectants and other items in the case that he'd have to give Angela sutures. Displayed in front of him was a dirty mattress resting on the floor, to his right a small pair of mobile speakers- After all, he needed music to set the mood, as if this was some twisted form of a date. Plugging his phone into the speakers his music was transferred from his headphones to the speakers, the beat filling the small dirt cellar. Reaching into his pocket Kristopher pulled out a small baggy filled with a fine white powder, his final ritual. Everything was exactly how he had planned, the only thing missing was Angela.
