Fake Security - The Hand In Disguise

Looking longingly at his emerald hand, as it extended in front of her, signalling 'Go', she stared at his promising eyes. Was she skeptical because she was taught to be, or because the cheapness of the smooth green polish over his hands was known?

 The horrors she had heard behind doors with a 'hush' every now and then, only spoken behind her back, but loud enough for her to grasp. Whispers about his angelic thumbs, which closes up air holes to bury a stream of a vampire's dinner into the hollow space between the protruding coils of his fingerprint, and his delicate nails, which stabilize themselves within your flesh to claim his property, flooded her left ear. 

Denying her instinct, she takes his hand, and he pulls her close.

 Enchanted by his sweet breath, her right ear tingles with fruity promises and candy wishes. Oblivious to the lime cracks shining, her neck is too close to the sourness of his grip. What was worse was the truth behind the mask, the one being displayed before her.

Ticking, the clock watches the concealed bloody truth emerge. Even though the omnious crimson of death glistened with the black shimmer of pure evil where his hands lie below her head, her eyes never caught the shine. Her breath struggles to stay, but false hope clung onto her like there is no tomorrow.

She grieves for the decease of her trust and her innocence. Still, the tears of her forgiveness are like a rain in a burial. They water the pink peonies left aside, but decay the black corpse underneath the ground.