How unpleasant! This has already happened to her before completely unfamiliar people. Other people. Not these. Those people who were already dead or are crippled.
Claire was hardly sinking on the bench in the very edge of the platform. She loved to sit right into the first car driven by train, so the place was just suitable for her. Scarce lighting dropped glare on rails, marble wall cladding and boarding bench. Claire did not immediately notice a bright scarlet spot on the seat right near herself. An unexpected sweet fragrance hit the nostrils, a little mixed with metal smells, reigning here.
A rose in the subway. How strange! Someone threw it right on the bench. Of course, it was merciful than to throw it to someone under the feet. Its extreme petals just started to fade. Roses sourced sweet aroma is particularly pleasant in the plunge of the subway and as if someone was waiting. Maybe someone just forgot her here. Maybe to take it will be theft, and yet Clair involuntarily took it. The rose lay here as a gift.
For some reason it seemed Claire that it would be a crime this gift not to accept. She carefully took the stem with her fingers and began to consider bright red petals. The bud just began to bloom, and was already doomed to die. And all just because the rose was left too long in a hot room without water. Claire fell sorry for the torn plant, as if it was a living being.
For some reason it seemed Claire that it would be a crime this gift not to accept. She carefully took the stem with her fingers and began to consider bright red petals. The bud just began to bloom, and was already doomed to die. And all just because the rose was left too long in a hot room without water. Claire fell sorry for the torn plant, as if it was a living being.
She did not even notice how the next train came up and moved away, although she was sitting just at the edge of the platform. Claire raised her head just when the train was already driving away. The windows of the cars flashed at high speeds of the cars reflected her frightened face. Maybe this is just a shooting game attached it to such a frightened and discouraged expression. As if something was happening.
Claire felt pain in the fingers. This is all rose. Its spikes turned out to be unexpectedly sharp. Probably, Claire made a mistake that she raised it. Now she looked at her own bloody fingers and thought where to take a scarf to wipe them. In the pockets of her jacket was nothing left. And her handbag she did not take with her today. Claire with an easy misunderstanding looked at her own fingers in the blood, then again looked at her reflection in the flashed windows. It suddenly strangely transformed. Someone else looked at her from the window. From all windows. Initially, it seemed to her that this very beautiful young man she saw at the escalator. He could well have time to sit in this train. There is nothing surprising in this. But he could not sit in all the cars in a row and look at her from each window. No, this is just some kind of light game. Some strong optical deception. Nobody looked at her from each window, it was only the reflection, layered one to another. Probably, it was they who created it in front of her a terrible creature. Someone crippled and frightening viciously grinned to her from reflective glass, and Claire dropped a rose.
She was frightened. Although she saw this face before, but was afraid again, as for the first time. Goosebumps fled on the skin. The hand was still sick. Blood smeared on her fingers. Neglecting etiquette, Claire wiped her hand right about jeans pocket. Only turning around, she noticed that on the bench also remained a bloody palm imprint, but it was not her. The fingers seemed stretched and bony, as if strange.
Someones cries rang out after the train had already disappeared into the tunnel. Claire moved to where they shouted. There are several people who were late for the train and the duty officer who tried, as he could, to relieve panic. He distilled off the frightened people from the edge of the platform, but Claire still managed to look through his shoulder on the rails. Initially, she did not even really understand what she saw, but the spectacle was extremely unpleasant. Some kind of dirty rags on the rails and brown lodges no, these were parts of the body. Many scattered parts. Have you ever been alone? Claire did not immediately notice a white-eyed head with a barred skull. A sticky brown messenger flowed along the long luminous hair. Only on the hairstyle, Claire managed to learn that Blonde, whom she saw five minutes ago in the subway with some girl. Obviously, the girl was here on the rails. Claire noted graceful chopped hands, obviously female parts of the body, the same dirty and brown, as some kind of rags with a garbage. Here is the death in the subway tunnel. How these guys were only lit together to fall under the train. Maybe someone pushed them. Or they played at the edge of the platform when the train approached. And maybe they were just so passionate about each other, which did not notice anything. On the moment it seemed to her that dead chops were still moving. That someone mutilated still reflects in the wall and laughs.