Everchanging Days

Killing is Fun Until it's Traumatizing

Tommy felt around the cramped closet, jewels digging uncomfortably in his skin. He was scared. The familiar suffocation of the small space practically sucked the air out of him, he couldn't help but be reminded of that place. He shivered as he remembered the coldness of the concrete floor, the cramped feeling of bars against the skin, the cries-

"No, no, no, no, no don't." He scolded himself as goosebumps settled on his skin, the memory itself bringing fear into the boy. He wasn't there anymore. He wasn't there.

As if he was a broken record he repeated the same idea over and over. He wasn't there, he didn't need to think about those things. Tommy's rapid, fearful breathing slowed, another attack quelled for the time being. He would have to deal with it later, but he could handle it. Tommy was a big man, and big men didn't let crippling fears overtake them. Probably.

The glint of his claws reflected on the wardrobe wall, the tiny crack from in between the doors reminding the blonde of his features. That's right. He had claws. Claws.. Could kill. A dark thought settled itself in Tommy's mind. With such sharp claws, he could easily deal with the humans outside. He could finish it swiftly. He always finishes it swiftly. A low growl settled itself from the boy's throat, his primal urges taking over.

Slowly, he opened the closet, using his good foot to balance him enough to get to the bed and pushed himself over to it. That wasn't good. Tommy could barely move and he needed all the mobility he could get. Maybe, he could just drag it, but then again, his powerhouse was always his legs. Curiously, Tommy opened the window and looked down.

The first thing Tommy noticed was that the window was in the front of the house, giving a proper view of the porch. Two figures were on the porch, but the raccoon boy couldn't tell what they were doing. Directly next to the porch was an armed man in black, a semi-automatic rifle held firmly in his grasp. The blonde took note of the metal roof over the front porch, almost a perfect springboard to take down the armed man. If he managed to use that, then he could easily decapitate the man. An animalistic growl passed his lips, content at the perfect way to kill his prey. Raccoons weren't predatory, but whatever they added into Tommy was. It made him hungry, craving blood. Maybe he had gotten addicted to blood and never realized it. Or maybe he had repressed his cravings for far too long. The hybrid really couldn't find it in him to care.

The harsh winter winds whipped at Tommy's cheeks as he propped himself on the windowsill, uncaring to the cold. It felt like he was in some strange fugue state, his body moving on autopilot as his mind watched. At least part of him felt like that, the other part was oh so aware of everything. Every footstep into the snow, every rattled breath and sneeze, every small movement. He heard and saw everything, and he loved it. The human part of him screamed, shouting protests as he angled himself to jump.

No, not again.

Tommy's begs and cries fell into emptiness as his body's face grinned. He was enjoying it. Oh Prime he was enjoying it. He hadn't even killed anyone yet, but the high of it sent his body reeling. The thrill of a potential kill sending an exhilarating shiver down his spine, his body leaned forwards. Just like that, the excitement of battle propelled him forward with force, his legs bouncing off of the roof just as planned, the only force against him being the tiny slip of snow. His wounded leg had been hindering him slightly, irking with pain as he applied inhuman amounts of force from it, but Tommy didn't care. He wanted blood. He pulled out his claws, and he ripped and he tore and he laughed.

Why? Why was he laughing? What the actual fuck? His mind questioned it, but his body didn't. It shook with quiet croaked laughter, uncaring of the boy who turned to look at him only after the man died. He was on the porch, frozen. Was that fear? Was he scared? Tommy felt his grin widen at the prospect.