Another prompt given to me from Heather at Distant Fantasies. The challenge was to take one word and incorporate it into a scene of no more than four paragraphs. My word was rain.
When he looked down at his hands, he saw nothing but bright red, staining the creases of his palms, congealing between his fingers. Beneath his knee, the other man remained still and silent. Lips were grey, breath no longer drawn. Emil’s lips curved upward in a terrible smile, even as his heart trembled in his chest and his hands began to shake.
“You bastard,” he whispered, staring down at Christian’s unseeing eyes. Petrichor filled the damp air and thunder rumbled in the grey skies. Glued to his back, Emil’s suit jacket felt uncomfortably tight. Something in his chest contracted and he took in a shuddering breath as he leaned back, sitting on his heel.
“You made me do it…” His fists clenched at his sides and he raised his head, closing his eyes as a gust of cool wind rifled through his hair. Even through his closed eyes, he could see the flash of lightning. Another crack of thunder.
The rain started out gentle, kissing his face, sliding over his closed eyes and down his lips. Then it fell in earnest–big, fat droplets slapping his cheeks as he opened his eyes. Raindrops fell from his lashes, from the tips of his hair as he slowly rose. And when he looked down at his hands, the blood had washed away. Emil’s smile disappeared.