Shreds of an Archive

Killer's Remorse

CW: Violence, attempted rape. 

I'm not very happy with the way this one turned out :(

Cries rang out, not quite managing to, pierce the roaring din of traffic, blaring horns overwhelming the yells that could have reached a bystanders ears. Seth walked purposefully down the sidewalk, circumventing the nearly-stopped traffic that flooded the roads.

"Take off yer clothes lady!" Three men were standing in a nearby alley way, armed with pipes and makeshift knives. A lady sat groveling on the ground, gripping her purse tightly. She screamed out, sobbing as one of the men grabbed her, trying to unbutton her jacket.

It's not my problem. The lady kicked and bit at the man, rewarding her with a backhand from her assailant, she went back to a sobbing mess.

He watched as his limbs moved, springing him into the fray. The main assailant cried out as Seth rammed into him, knocking him onto the cement, head connecting with a dull thud. The other two men stood, momentarily stunned.

The woman stood up and sprinted down the alley, away from her attackers, the thudding of her feet on the cement sprang the two remaining men into action, each one taking a side of the alleyway. I'm glad she's safe, was all Seth could think. The man on the side the women ran lunged forward, wildly swinging his pipe, Seth 'blocked' the blow with his arm, he felt a crunch as the pipe connected, and a searing pain shot through the length of his entire arm. The man swung again, this time, Seth ducked the blow, grabbing the knife from the unconscious man's hand, before the man wielding the pipe could react, Seth moved forward, fighting taking over flight, he lashed wildly, feeling his knife slide into flesh and passing through the man's stomach.

What have I done? Seth looked at the man, blood gushed from the wound as the pipe wielding man, the man frantically tried to cover up the wound with his hands, soul piercing screams echoing in the alleyway. I killed him. A heavy clang rang out as the remaining assailant hit him from behind. Seth's vision faded in and out, the blood rushed to his ears.

All he remembered was looking up as the man walked over to him, the knife he had used to kill the other assailant. I accept this death, I hope that lady got away. Then all was black as the man brought the knife down.

He was sure he died. He had felt the knife puncture his heart, he had taken his last breath and even come to terms with his past regrets. Any emotion before his supposed death drained away into confusion.

"Oh, I'm still alive," he heard himself say. His surroundings came into focus, he was standing, knife in hand, above a man's corpse. Why did he kill him?

Seth gasped, recognition darting into his mind. The corpse it's- my body. . .

Police blared and he saw blue and red flashing at the other end of the alley.

No. . . that can't be me.

He sprinted, running for minutes- or hours, he could no longer tell. Time merged with the rhythmic pounding of his feet, taking him somewhere far away.

Seth fell to his knees in exhaustion, taking gasping lungfuls of air. His pants grew damp as it soaked up moisture from a puddle. A face stared at him in the puddle, his reflection.

The face of his killer.