I pull my head up to face my enemy, spitting the words like acid. I attempt to sound as brave as possible, but with a battered face and a soft voice, I'm not intimidating in the least.
"So…very pathetic." I repeat again, this time louder and firm. He turns at my words.
"Reaping people's vitalities against their will, calling yourself the only immortal person to ever exist…that's supposed to give you some sort of strength?"
The man laughs gravely. "How did you get in here, scraggly survivor?" He examines the carpeting with a disgusted expression. "That rug was imported, you little ingrate."
The male nonchalantly blows smoke from his pipe, his dark and evil eyes swirling around like a typhoon ready to destroy anything they landed upon.
I, confused, glance down to make sense of what he said. Sure enough, the intricate yellow flowers on the design drown in scarlet red. Such a horrible person, worrying about the contents of his interior décor…does he not burn up with guilt for all the horrible crimes he's committed?
His apathy amuses me.
I briefly laugh, though I immediately find the action sending a stabbing pain to my bleeding abdomen. I'm dying, yeah. But at least I could screw up his day.
"Red. It…suits you better anyways…"
"Looks like you'll need a new carpet…"
I collapse, so weak that the sentence absorbs the last bit of energy I have.