It was rather early in the day when the cadaver of Mr. Morrison took the plunge up and over the ornate wrought iron gates that securely enclosed the regal home. A satisfying thud and the soft crunch of a few crispy leaves beneath his limp body were the only audible signals of his landing. It was moments later when his companion landed in a more graceful manner by his side, having hopped the precipice of a gate herself to land firmly on her feet. Taking up one arm of the corpse, the slender girl beside him hummed a dainty little tune as she looked up contentedly at what would soon be their new home.
The previous owners had taken fairly good care of the estate-- the shrubbery and blooms of the lawn were neatly trimmed, the stretches of grass along the flagstone walkway still appeared freshly-mown, the windows at the front of the home all shone with a pristine air, the patio furniture was set up for casual use, and the door that stood unlocked before her even seemed to have a coat of fresh paint upon it. Nevertheless, the home stood abandoned and without so much as an ounce of life within. Perhaps it was sheer luck that brought Lyla to such a place, but she would beg to differ. After escaping the horrid maximum security ward, she'd believe herself to be entitled to such a generous dwelling. It were as if she deserved the luxury of taking up this home for not a penny on the dime.
Standing beside the recently-deceased Mr. Morrison to support his body in a manner such that they may look like old friends, Lyla leaned in to speak to him casually, "Why, we sure picked a looker, eh?" With a click of her tongue and a small toss of the keys that belonged to Mr. Morrison's silver Buick, she set out at a leisurely pace across the meticulously-placed flagstone. Alongside her, the steady dragging of the body's feet was the only sound to be heard in the still morning air.
Once inside, Lyla made quick work of the body. In this case meaning she simply left it in wake of the door after entering in order to more easily explore. No distractions, no restrictions. Already she was loving the simpler life outside of the ward, and she'd only been out and about for the past couple of days. Still, it was the little things granted with her freedom that truly made all the difference; the ability to breathe in the crisp morning air, to roam freely wherever, whenever, and however she liked, to drive, to kill, to live life on her own accord again.
It wasn't long before she'd grown quite accustomed to living in her new home with the deceased Mr. Morrison. He, of course, was now sitting obediently across from the door as if to greet potential guests. She'd fashioned him neatly in some butler's garb for lack of better thing to do with the body, unwilling to take a shovel to either the elegant shrubbery of the lawn or the small vineyard that accompanied the estate. The accumulating smell of death in the entryway didn't truly bother her. His eyes held a forward stare, his facial expression contorted stiffly into what may have been dismay, and the majority of his body leaned slightly forward from his place among the majestic staircase. His lips were cracked open as if to speak, "Welcome home."