He looked through the peephole to see who was there. The night was late, and the street lights were dim, but he could see a figure there, reflecting off the little light the street had cast. I turned the porch light on, then quickly turned it off once he realized. Rose G. Everett, the hit man he hired was standing on his front porch, still and silent, the only sound she made was her coming up the steps; not a mistake. She was bruised, wet, and covered in bloody sparkles and carried a brown game bag. A bloody game bag. I opened the door.
“So, you did it?”
“It’s in the bag, can I come in?”
“Of course.” I stepped against the door, hoping she wouldn’t touch me, thought it should be the least of my worries. It was living dead inside the house, if someone were to pass by at the wrong moment…
The door clicked shut behind me. In front of me was another door, the same mahogany wood as the rest, a fire warm light peeking from under the wood.
“Just go on in, I’ll prepare a room for you. I know you’re not very appealing, but they’ll be happy to see you.” I nodded and pushed the golden handle down. The room was about as big as a ball room, but as cozy as a living room. There were couches everywhere, and a blazing fireplace against the wall. The ceiling was up high and seemed to be made of marble, like the floor, and it had a crystal chandelier hanging from it (unlike the floor) and had multiple designs. The room had many varieties of browns and many people, sitting on the floors and the couches. Some reading, newspapers, letters, and books, others conversing. No one looked or acknowledged my presence to the room, until I entered and started walking towards the table closest to the center of the room.
They must’ve realized I was heading towards the center table, since everyone surrounding it cleared the things off and joined the crowd, backed up and far away from me. They were horrified. I placed the bag on the table and let its contents roll out.
“Edward Cullen.” Someone murmured. I nodded and looked around the room and saw a pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at the head on the table. Rue looked up.
“Did John tell you to kill him?” Tris asked.
“Yes.” I said.
“And that’s his blood.” A boy leaning against a trident asked, nodding to the table.
“No duh.” Said a boy with messy black hair, in-between a boy with long black hair and a boy with thin, blonde hair. The boy against the trident grinned.
“Did John tell you to kill him?” Asked a girl with blonde hair that I didn’t know. I nodded.
There was a moment of silence.
“Well I’m sorry the queen of hearts isn’t here to approve of this.” Said a boy with messy black hair, black leather clothes, and yellow eyes.
“Who cares, long live the wizards, tributes, divergents, and everyone different!” Someone yelled. Someone else whistled a three not whistle, though Rue and Finnick’s lips were still, someone put one music. Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see John standing in the mist of the sudden chaos.
“Your room is ready miss.” I nodded, though I could barely hear, and followed him out of the room.
“Vampires suck!” Someone shouted.
“You shut your mouth!” Someone else shouted back.
“Sparking ones do!” A random voice yelled.
“150 points from Hufflepuff!” Someone yelled
“It’s not his fault!” A woman voiced up defensively.
“Now you shut it!” The same voice from before the woman yelled back. Luckily, we were on the landing before the stairs before we could hear the rest. The glitter blood had almost dried before I was shown the bath, were the glitter would all fall off like flimsy pieces of paper. I killed him under the sun- a mistake I would not make again.