#rem no

@attroxx

the pictures on the wall give a little shudder as her back hits the wall. Her door isn't even shut all the way, light from the hallway leaking in the little crack; the sound of footsteps thudding against the thin carpet of the dorms echoing loudly down the stretch of drywall-lined walls. Her heart jumps to her throat, blood rushing to her ears and drowning out the din outside of her door-- her mouth parts faintly, to suck in a breath that seemed to escape throbbing lungs before she feels a finger against those pouty lips.

She isn't scared, per se, but rather disturbed. Rem was quiet, stayed to herself and hardly left her apartment unless it was for classes. Winter break was on them, giving her a reprieve from mingling with the other students; her mind felt like honey after finals: syrupy and inconsistent in holding any form of information. She had been asleep, dozing off on the nest of blankets and pillows that served as her regular sleeping area during the past month. After her last final, all she wanted to do was sleep and never wake back up; the stress was enough to kill her. The back of her calves start to ache from how she's standing, tensed and on her tip-toes against the wall.

She doesn't know who this guy is-- why had she answered the door in the first place? She wasn't expecting anyone to stop by-- the few people she did interact with had either gone home to be with family or took a well-deserved vacation to decompress from the stressful month they'd endured, pouring themselves over endless thesis papers, research, and studying. She doesn't recall having any food ordered either-- she just remembers coming home, showering, and collapsing in her nest.

Her eyes narrow, feeling something sticky against her bottom lip and copper fill her nose. Blood-- he had blood on his hands, smearing it across her lower lip and cupid's bow; she didn't like how her stomach gave a flutter, how her ears felt hot and she lowered herself to stand on her heel. He's glaring at her door, barely breathing; his shoulders scarcely raise as breath fills his lungs. Rem feels her jaw tense, her brain tells her to bite that finger through the bone, to make him cry out and blow his cover-- it was obvious he was hiding. Who else just comes into someone's flat like this?

she tries to draw her head back, but her head is flush to the wall-- no escape. If she really wanted to, she could have slipped his grasp yet she wasn't sure she wanted to try her luck. With blood already cooling on his fingertips, just how much patience did this stranger have left? Idly, she wonders if her favourite crime podcast host will cover her murder. That's what he's here for, right? To murder her and go about his day? she exhales against his finger, slow and deliberate before her heart begins to race for another reason entirely; her tongue presses against that finger and licks a clean stripe against his appendage before swallowing the mixture of spit and blood.

"shut it."

The words he heard slip free from her lips weren’t something that he had expected to hear. They didn’t register at first, but that didn’t seem to stop him from finding her in his arms. There was something in his hand, but he couldn’t see what it was. It was almost as if he was being controlled somehow. There were tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to do this . . .