“Hey, isn’t this fun~?” With a grin, he forcefully pulled you around, a sloppy form of a waltz. A waltz in a room full of people he’d just gruesomely murdered. A room painted in red.

“C’mon, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

A bloody waltz. A waltz of the dead. With a manic laugh he spun you around, movements still forceful. He could’ve snapped your wrists in two if he wanted to. No one would be able to help you, ghost or not. Everyone there was dead. Everyone there was gone. “This is what you wanted, right?”

There was nothing you could do either. He could kill you without a second glance, and yet here he was, ‘gently’ dancing with you. He acted like he’d done nothing wrong, like he was perfectly fine. But he wasn’t, and it showed.

“Hey, you’re not answering me.”