❝𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃❞
It has been 1 week since the Idol 𝖩𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 has gone missing yet the police couldn't find a single trace of the kidnapper other than a bloody handwritten note which read ❝JJk's fanboy❞
In which a struggling Manh...
"I'm not ill, I'm twisted illness has its cure I'm not curable, I live inside your fear"
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Roars of the train route were echoing through a busy subway. Passengers were told to stay back from the yellow line for safety issues over and over again. Some were following the rules but some brutally dismissed them. The train momentarily arrived screeching like an angry monster made of hefty metal. It was a busy day after all. A heavy exertion smell almost was suffocating the crowd who put up with waiting for their departure.
I was standing among the crowds. wearing a black mask and a similar-colored hoodie along with skinny jeans. I looked too normal. My inside was cracking in unknown sickness. I slowly relayed the waiting lane as My eyes were covered with curly hair, my fingers clenched into a fist, and my body twitched alongside.
Nobody noticed me
Simply no one
My head was pounding with an unknown yet dark enthusiasm the moment I encountered a little boy not so far away from where I stood. He was maybe almost 8 to 10 years old standing alone, carelessly crossing that thick safety yellowed line. He stood so peacefully not even realizing the danger he will be confronting in a moment. I looked at the silent train which had hundreds of people inside, talking and fleeing a sign of solace as the two-sided entrance of the train began to close up. My eyes shifted toward the boy who was still standing on top of the safety line yet nobody tended to even notify him to move away.
The subway went noisy as the large bullet train started to move its body. The noise itself made my ears scream in pain
Slow
medium
fast
faster
Finally, the boy was nearly stepping away from the dangered line but it was too late. My body formed to move forward right behind the little boy and with a strong grip on the back of his hair, I smashed his face right on top of that running train.
His skin, flesh, blood, brain everything was getting peeled off by that fast-moving metal, shredding half of his face into nothing but cubes of meat, and that left a long large line of red blood on that white train's body. Just like art. As if someone moved a sharp line with their brush covered in crimson color.
Screams became louder and louder. That busy route was now filled with fearful cries and clatters of shoes sprinting around
Everything went so fast. As the train's deck ended, the little boy's half-grated dead body directly falls off the tall subway station and into that still-warm train track. Like a useless skin of an emptied banana.
