Cupid from Hell -- Celeste.

[white lines do not lie]

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Arms fell to her knees, as her body crouched besides the blood ridden filled tub. Her eyes watched as small ripples continued to repeat themselves, and if one listened very closely; they could hear squirming, and sucking parasites underneath the thin layer of water. A cigarette hung from the corner of her lips, as she glove ridden fingers went to smear the left over blood left to dry out against the porcelain roman tub. Thumb, and forefinger rubbed together, as she took a puff off the cancer stick, and inhaled inside her lungs without a thought of removing it from her lips.

The man's file, obviously deceased by now; was kept on the bathroom counter -- wide open so that walls could see the details. See the wrong this man did in the world, and shown brightly the debts he would never pay off. Ever since receiving the bloody thing, Celeste only touched it with a latex hold; gloves always worn when flipping through the pages. Couldn't have any fingerprints of her own. Even now, Celeste still wore the red wig

( You know what people say about redheads : Completely fucking crazy. )

that the lady in the Office had seen her wearing, and even colored contacts. Even gave the woman a fake name under false pretenses of the deceased man, and her were married. That was cute in a way; a married couple coming to a Hotel to spend a night together. If only that night lasted for the man. Poor soul thought that he was going to walk away happy, and sexually exhausted. What a surprised when the woman he met, who he knew as Camille had blinded him with his own tie. The polkadotted laughing stock of a fabric was now soaked with blood, and water. Though, the only thing he got was a wake-up call; death whispering his ear about how she'd suck him off for just one thing. ( Play by the rules, Mr. Walking Dead. )

That had been hours ago, as Celeste still wore the dreaded clothing line of the whores. The black corset was comfortable enough; it gave her a little trouble breathing at times, but that was the whole purpose. Or was it to hide the excess fat that most women had dripping from them. Like sins dripping from the Bible. Though, Celeste only wore it because she wanted too. Though, the strings from the thong had been high on her curvy hips, and the garter belt kept the stockings in place when she moved around. Hair had been pinned back long before the fun started, and now a curl or two had escaped into her vision line.

Had she stuck to her old game of arrows through the heart? But of course, that arrow still fed his life false hope, while the leeching parasites continued to move through the rippling waters. She stood, as heels echoed through the small cavities of the room. There was a black bag on the floor of the main room, as she bent over to grab it. She only had a few things inside : That bow, and a few filled bottles of something. She only knew exactly what was in those three bottles, as she uncapped one of them. She began to splash the contents around the room, as she was very careful not to splash it on herself. One bottle empty, and it was all on that unused bed. The second bottle uncapped; splashed on the floor, and in the bathroom. Third one? Well, it would be used to leave a trail from the soaked bed towards the doorway.

The cigarette was puffed on again, as she finally got that high feeling from the smell of gasoline. The delirious emotion coming over her, as she reached towards the top of the corset; inside her cleavage, as she pulled out a book of matches. Still holding the black bag, she stuffed it underneath one arm; and peeled a match from its brothers, and sisters. It was struck, as she backed out of the room towards the life outside.

( Thank god this was a remotely abandoned area, and the hotel was hardly ever used due to the age. But you know what they say about old hotels. Damn them to Hell! They never had the proper fire equipment to help drizzle out a flame. )

The match was dropped, as those dark eyes of the cupid lit up. That trail of flame led directly into the room, as she canted her head. " Good night. " She whispered, as she watched that poor room engulf itself in flames. And that cupid? Well, she was just going undetected.

For what mankind doesn't think about : The safe creatures, and the beautiful women are usually the worst of them all.

[white lines do not lie]

She calls me Belldonna.

Del is her perfered name, but I'll call her Alice.