A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

12

                                 

                                    .....

THWOCK!!!

My fist drives into flesh, my knuckles stinging with each sharp blow, the meat beneath getting ever more tenderised.

THWOCK!!!

"P-please....man....sto- stop...." My victim groans beneath me, his body convulsing, lurching as each blow forces it's way into face and body.

The vibrant, harsh smell of blood cloaks the air, stinging my nostrils, fuel to the fire of the rage that is bubbling within me.

It bubbles like hot lava, seeping through every inch of my being.

Only then do I realise it really isn't rage seeping through me, fueled by blood. No.

It is blood.

I am knocked out of my violent trance at the sight of red. Not the kind you claim to see when you throw a fit, or crash out and hit someone. Blood red.

It drips from my forehead, collecting in little puddles on the floor; creating dark splotches where it lands on my victim's shirt.

There's so much of it.

My paw loosens it's grip on the hem of the guys shirt, and he scrambles away as soon as he can, wiggling free of my wavering vice grip.

I feel my breathing slow, my heartbeat alongside it.

More blood drips from me, the source now unknown as it cascades down.

Almost as if there is no source, and my body is nothing but a vessel for blood.

At the realisation, my throat hitches. I can't breathe, can't speak, can't scream. I try to yell, holler, shout, cry, sob, but nothing comes out.

My body feels weak, anaemic, the blood loss now becoming relentless as I seep my life essence onto the ground below, pools of crimson gathering in mass around me.

It pools, now no longer tiny puddles, instead a stream of iron, cascading down the mountainside that is my quivering body.

"H-help...help....me....somebody...." I manage croak, my paws reaching for my throat, feeling nothing as they near.

My eyes flutter, opening and closing as I cough and gasp for a brief respite of air, that of which I am not given.

I suddenly lurch over, vomit forcing itself upwards and out of my gaping maw, forcing my face to the floor.

Though, I am not met with the familiar stench and sight of regurgitated food I'm met with night after night.

Just more blood.

I hurl and hurl, chucking up more and more blood, adding to the growing pools of crimson surrounding me.

Suddenly the schoolyard is empty, void of people. As if they fled at the sight of the blood, which now begins to flood the grounds, no grey stone left untouched by the biblical wave seeping from me.

I fall over, lying fetal, holding myself as I seep and seep and seep, rocking back and forth.

Tears stream down my cheeks, lingering in my peripheral in crimson. Like everything else.

I am finally given the energy to release a harrowing howl, and my screams of terror reverberate around me endlessly.

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