Hit The Floor - The Black Parade

**darkestnight** · 07-05-2008, 02:47 AM

Hit The Floor

Rated 15+ for violence
This is entirely fictional. I do not have any contact with any of the band members whatsoever.
For Madeleine aka VivreChem
Genre: Tragedy
Summary: What would you do for the person you're in love with?
Title based off the Bullet For My Valentine song

^Made by Maddie

Index:
ch1-pg1
ch2-pg2
ch3-pg3
ch4/5-pg4
ch6-pg5
ch7-pg6
ch8-pg7
ch9-pg7
ch10/11-pg8
Ch12-pg9
ch13-pg9
ch14-pg10
end-pg10

**darkestnight** · 07-05-2008, 02:47 AM

Hit The Floor
Chapter 1
If I could paint in any medium it would be blood. It’s not that I’m some sick guy who wants to paint murals in small children’s blood, I just like the color. It’s such a rich, beautiful red. No regular red paint could match up to it, no regular paint would look as beautiful on canvas.

There was this girl who told me about that. I remember her because she laughed when I told her she was crazy. Her name was Madeleine, I think. I remember her eyes though, these striking green eyes, with hazel in the middle. But sometimes when the light hit them at just the right angle they were all green and in the dark they were sometimes completely hazel. She had this dark blonde hair too; it swept around her when she walked.

I don’t exactly know why I remember her, maybe because she always challenged me. I remember the night I met her, it was probably around midnight by this local bakery that was open 24/7. She was drinking coffee and was eating a bagel. I sat at the table next to her and drank my coffee.
She was a writer for the local paper, small job, big dreams. I told her I was a comic book artist; she asked to see my work. I asked to see hers.

She blushed and looked away. I gave her my number and she gave me hers. I followed her home, she lived in a tiny apartment building. Apartment number 316. I left when she shut the door, she had no idea that I was there or that I had followed her.

I remember our talks; we had the most interesting talks. She was always so passionate about things, the environment, the government, art, and writing. She was shy at first, it took me weeks to get her to open up, leave her shell and confide in me. I always listened to what she had to say, I was always the shoulder that she could cry on.

But I think I remember her because I killed her.