TRIGGER WARNING: blood, gore
He can barely breathe.
His breaths are short and painful.
His legs are shaky and fall to the floor every time he tries to stand.
His arms sag down, his hands barely lifting to hold his head up.
He's gasping for air.
His scars only worsen, more and more blood staining his torn, plain blue buttoned shirt and generic blue jeans.
He can see a blur, a blob of a person, likely facing his direction. The broken glass from the cracked glasses tilted on his face create even more cuts as he slowly moves.
Suddenly, the blob moves closer and closer. He can see something silver on them.
He's already been tortured enough. They cannot possibly hurt him.
He sees his guts fall out.
His intestine is ripped from his body. He can no longer feel the pain, only disappointment for what his body has become.
He can feel the knife coming closer to his head, the careful slit of his forehead.
His body is covered in blood coming from all areas. Slits on his hands, his arms, legs, face, and his open chest and head.
He is able to mutter a few last words in between gasps for air.
"What's left of me- or anyone- when we've denied The Hurting?"
author's note: the last sentence, as well as the title, is from the song "watch me bleed" by tears for fears. this story was apart of a collective of short stories my friends and i put together.
YOU ARE READING
horror one-shot
Nouvellesbased on a dream of mine. this is my first attempt at a horror-esque scene, please give any critique in the comments. **this is now a collection of horror one-shots i've written over time. tw for gore, blood, death / murder, and general creepiness...
