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Description
The door knob clinked and rattled, the old lock wouldn't do much good. You reached for the old shower curtain pole beside the wash-tub. The door creaked open.

"POLICE! We want your bloody hands in the air!"

You pulled your dripping, bare body from the tub, charging at the armed officers.
Upon whacking the heavy, iron pole against their heads, you heard a exuberant, loud apology being shouted in the distance.

It was him. It was his fault.

Continuing with the assault of officers, and attempting to keep your mind off of the fact that you were bare, you managed to scream out.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Your pulse was increasing more and more with each minute, you could feel the anger in your veins. That asinine, red-headed fool.

"It was my fault ! They heard me talking about you to myself! It seems I said to much, oh, yes. " It was intentional, and obviously so by his smile.

"Why, you..." You gritted your teeth together and smashed the pole into his face. "Is it because I didn't let you join me? Is that really your reason for this?" You pointed to the bleeding, unconscious officers surrounding you. "Now I've got to run away!"

Grell surveyed he motionless bodies covering your bathroom floor. His smile widened and he looked into your eyes.

"I'll be getting punished for this one, too. I can feel it. " he giggles, winking his eye at you.
He paced the bathroom, the smile never leaving his face. He was obviously conjuring an idea, and by the look upon his face you could tell you weren't going to be liking it.

"About that position," he began. "What position defines a beautiful lady-?" He directed his speech at himself.

"Lady?" You were slightly choked up-both by laughter and shock- at his statement.

"Murder. Bloody, cold murder. The beautiful red liquid...staining a beautiful woman." He ignored your inquiry, turning his head downward, keeping his gaze upon you.

"I hate to tell you, but I'm uninterested." You wrapped a towel around yourself, gripping it tightly. "Now, before more officers come, and I'm taken away to the jailhouse, I'd appreciate you take your leave. I have no interest in help." You turned to walk away, "sheesh...freak." You muttered.

You hurriedly dressed yourself and packed all necessary drugs and liquors you would need for your profession. HE had been quiet.

Until now. He stood in front of you, a chainsaw in hand, and his excited, ominous smile, once again, on his face.

"You will take me with you-" he curled your hair between his fingers. "Or I'll make sure your death is truly beautiful."

Description
The door knob clinked and rattled, the old lock wouldn't do much good. You reached for the old shower curtain pole beside the wash-tub. The door creaked open.

"POLICE! We want your bloody hands in the air!"

You pulled your dripping, bare body from the tub, charging at the armed officers.
Upon whacking the heavy, iron pole against their heads, you heard a exuberant, loud apology being shouted in the distance.

It was him. It was his fault.

Continuing with the assault of officers, and attempting to keep your mind off of the fact that you were bare, you managed to scream out.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Your pulse was increasing more and more with each minute, you could feel the anger in your veins. That asinine, red-headed fool.

"It was my fault ! They heard me talking about you to myself! It seems I said to much, oh, yes. " It was intentional, and obviously so by his smile.

"Why, you..." You gritted your teeth together and smashed the pole into his face. "Is it because I didn't let you join me? Is that really your reason for this?" You pointed to the bleeding, unconscious officers surrounding you. "Now I've got to run away!"

Grell surveyed he motionless bodies covering your bathroom floor. His smile widened and he looked into your eyes.

"I'll be getting punished for this one, too. I can feel it. " he giggles, winking his eye at you.
He paced the bathroom, the smile never leaving his face. He was obviously conjuring an idea, and by the look upon his face you could tell you weren't going to be liking it.

"About that position," he began. "What position defines a beautiful lady-?" He directed his speech at himself.

"Lady?" You were slightly choked up-both by laughter and shock- at his statement.

"Murder. Bloody, cold murder. The beautiful red liquid...staining a beautiful woman." He ignored your inquiry, turning his head downward, keeping his gaze upon you.

"I hate to tell you, but I'm uninterested." You wrapped a towel around yourself, gripping it tightly. "Now, before more officers come, and I'm taken away to the jailhouse, I'd appreciate you take your leave. I have no interest in help." You turned to walk away, "sheesh...freak." You muttered.

You hurriedly dressed yourself and packed all necessary drugs and liquors you would need for your profession. HE had been quiet.

Until now. He stood in front of you, a chainsaw in hand, and his excited, ominous smile, once again, on his face.

"You will take me with you-" he curled your hair between his fingers. "Or I'll make sure your death is truly beautiful."