Erica can't take it anymore. Who was this person to think that it would be ok to kill the girl she loved so dearly for a mere word? Who was he to think she'll just let it pass without fighting back? Doesn't he care about anything at all? Closing her eyes, she solemnly swore to Eliza that she'll get the revenge she deserved, that she'll find and torture the person behind all this. But what she never took notice of, was her own heart, fogging up with anger and hatred. The pure water in her heart was stained with a single drop of blood, she was stained with her own bloodlust.
She picked up the dagger once again, flicking off the intestines still connected, and stood, back facing the corpse of her friend. Eight pairs of eyes stared curiously at what she's about to do. She would not let them down. She marched towards the direction the dagger came from, behind the scratched slide into the shadowed woods, determined to return the weapon the cruelest way possible. She can almost hear Eliza whispering to her, their souls connected, urging her on.
Don't make me die for nothing.
All she wanted was to "return the weapon", and that was okay in her book, as far as she's concerned. The rest can remain unacknowledged, forever hidden in the shadows, like what the assassin must be doing now.
The dagger left a trail of blood behind her, drying deep scarlet, making her memories follow her like a mad dog to a bone. The woods seems to drag on forever, with each turn of the trail revealing more uncovered areas, more places to hide. Her march changed into a stride, then to a walk, making her loose all the adrenaline that was previously taking over her mind. The blood was still dripping, with no sign of stopping, trailing down from here hands.
Her hands, something happened. She raised her hands to clearly inspect them, pointing the dagger to the canopy of leaves. The blood from Eliza's wound was smeared all over, shining with her own sweat. It was caking at areas, blotches that came from her friend's insides. Then she saw what she did, she really saw it, without her decisions clouded by the white hot rage that controlled her. She saw herself pulling out the dagger, pressing against the wound. She saw herself killing her friend.
Eliza wouldn't have started bleeding if it wasn't for her.
YOU ARE READING
Playground of Bones
HorrorIt was completely silent. Except for the creak of the swings. There was no wind. No footsteps. No breathing. Then there was a scream. A piercing scream, filled with pain It was muted right away. Welcome to the Playground of Bones
