The sun shines through the curtains, awakening me from my deep slumber.
More like, scorching sunlight burns my retinas the moment I open my eyes. I should probably replace those flimsy curtains the next time I get paid.
The bed feels cold and hard, and suddenly it's not a bed; I'm lying in the floor of my one-room house at nine in the morning. The bed is messy, the blanket half fallen on the floor and the sink is full of dishes.
I manage to get off the floor, ruffling my mussed silver hair. It's been like that since the day I was born. Teenage me thought it looked kind of cool, but now I just feel like a really old person. I even get compliments on the streets sometimes, saying I look "damn young for my age".
I hobble over to the bathroom, when I feel something wet under my foot. I lift it to have a look, and I see a red splotch. It's probably some sauce I spilled. I rarely have time to clean my room, with all the effort I put in to keep it in the first place. I'd probably be homeless otherwise.
The knob on the bathroom door is covered in sauce too, and I'm wondering if I was drunk last night. I pan around the room and notice red handprints all over the cupboard doors and the kitchen counter. I touch a bit of the red stuff and sniff at it; it smells... iron-y.
The distinct, ferric smell of blood.
I'm panicking now. What in the novae had I done last night? I'm scared to open the bathroom door, but I do because I have to pee badly, and a horrific sight greets me.
The shower floor is dark red, the white tiles underneath barely visible. Bloody fingerprints cover the taps, the toilet seat and the walls. I lift open the lid of the laundry basket, and the sudden smell of fresh blood overpowers me. I gag and dry-retch in the toilet behind me.
I kick the basket over and the clothes I wore last night spill out, stained red. The sleeves of my white shirt look like they were slashed with a sharp blade; the bottom edge is ripped out, the threads unravelling. A small knife pokes out of the pocket of my blood-soaked jeans.
I jump when my phone starts beeping. I run over to where I left it on the bed and hurriedly try to unlock it. I fumble a few times, and finally get it right. A notification fills my screen. Loud party-popper noises fill the silent room.
I'm... aghast, for lack of a simpler word. Me—weak, clumsy, afraid of talking to the neighborhood postman—had risen to rank 104,439,967 according to the government alert on my phone.
From 699,998,897.
There was a government scheme—if you could even call it that—where the more people you killed, the higher a rank you would get. It was established about 40 years ago, when capitalism reached its peak. Many chose not to participate at first; but officials broke into their houses and raided them and confiscated everything they had—their shares, their savings, their jobs. Left with no other option, they resorted to murdering people.
A few years later, the government started to give out a monthly 'salary' to those ranked under ten million. Then it became five million. Then three. Now, it stood at one million. The higher your rank, the more money you got. It was a perfect nightmare.
My head spins and I fall onto the bed. My stomach drops some hundred feet and I gulp. Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The late morning, the blood everywhere.
I had probably come home covered in blood, drugged and sleepy, and staggered over to the bathroom, managed to clean up and had fallen asleep.
I had gone on a killing spree last night.
À suivre.
———
How was it?
I wanted to add a picture of a bloody bathroom I found on pinterest which was pretty accurate, but decided against it as some of y'all might get freaked out.
Honestly, the story seems pretty far-fetched to me. What am I supposed to with it next? But I do want to flesh this out a bit more. Maybe I'll make a part two.
This was inspired by the 142nd prompt in GravityMay's Writing Prompts:
You live in a city full of people with powers where everyone is ranked according to how powerful they are. You can kill someone of higher rank to obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but nobody knows what your power is.
Thank you for reading, and don't forget to vote if you liked it! 🧡
P.s. Look out for a part two!
[DO NOT USE/REPRODUCE WITHOUT PERMISSIONS]
YOU ARE READING
Act 1 | Scenes
De Todo**DO NOT USE/REPRODUCE THE CONTENTS OF THIS BOOK WITHOUT PERMISSION** --- A written diarrhea of scenes and situations that find their way into my ever-wandering mind. This'll probably go on forever.
