The dark side of the pentagram OC x Alastor (English ver.)

Red

TW: Murder, blood, violence

Red. That was everything I could see. It was on my hands, my feet, in my face and it soaked my formally white hair with metallic-smelling, deadly beauty. Cause this is what it was; beautiful. It was beautiful, because this red did not belong to me.

My knife dug into another body and the extraneous red splattered into my face. I licked the delicious taste off my lips, spun around and plunged the knife into the chest of the man who had sneaked up behind me.

I laughed hysterically as he screamed in pain, as I slashed open his chest. I delighted in the fear in his eyes. That was good, he should be afraid, he should suffer for what he had done to me. Every single one of them should suffer.

I screamed as a knife at my back shredded, what was still left of my dress. I reflexively stabbed with the blade and followed up when I met resistance. The death scream of who ever I hit drowned in the thunderous roaring of the blood in my ears.

I looked around, men with weapons, all dressed in black, rushed towards me from all sides. Through the slowly wearing off adrenaline I could feel something warm running down my bare back. I emerged just enough from my red frenzy of run, jump, dodge,strike, that I noticed that it was blood. My blood.

With an animalistic scream, I lunged forward, hacking and stabbing my way through the crowd rushing towards me. I cried out shrilly as a blade pierced my lower abdomen and my vision swam for a moment. Another blow hit my leg and threw me to the hard floor of the warehouse.

I lashed out blindly with the knife, as someone kicked me in the side. A foot in a heavy boot dug into my bare, battered chest and white hot pain took my vision. I thought I would suffocate miserably, when the leader's call interrupted my tormentor.

"Stop it! She had enough.". This voice, which I hated so much, interrupted my hellish torment and the boot lifted from my chest. I immediately gasped for oxygen and doubled over, coughing, as torrents of my blood ran from the corners of my mouth. The red mist that clouded my vision slowly cleared and I realized that I couldn't survive.

I was too badly wounded, had lost too much blood and was trapped. This calmed my mind and made me so happy that I smiled up at the leader, leaning over me, with bloody lips. His palm hit my cheek with a smack and caused my head to hit the floor so hard that I briefly saw stars.

"You dirty bitch slaughtered my men! But now you're trapped. Look at how hatefully she looks at me! But what do you want to do little girl? You are surrounded, injured and can no longer move. Even your little knife can not save you from certain death. You are going to die!"

"You're right!", I said with a clear and confident voice. I giggled briefly, sending fresh blood down my cheeks. "But you are going to die with me.", i whispered. Before anyone could react, my upper body shot up and, with the last of my strength, I rammed my knife into the black-clad leader's chest.

In a terrible caricature of a hug, I put my free arm around his shoulders and brought my bloodied lips with my last death-wisper up to his ear: "See you in hell.".

Then my body went limp and the last thing I saw was the leader's eyes, wide in surprise and panic, from which the life drained.