Death Will Always Win

Death Times 2

That wasn't quite right though. He was trying to kill her. It was self-defense. Completely! Kill or be killed. Her gaze narrowed down toward that body. Lewis, that son of a bitch, got what was coming to him! He deserved it! For everything he did that drove Conner to run. To put him in that situation where a stray car took his life.

Madeline rose from the bed, pushing herself over it as she moved toward his corpse, the paper-like hospital gown shifting lightly on her form. She didn't notice she was no-longer bandaged or hooked to any of the machines. That shadow must've deemed them unnecessary. She carried herself toward him, her bare feet falling into the slowly forming puddle of blood about his head. He didn't look as tough now. Not with that look of surprise and fear on his face. Or with all the life gone from his eyes. Madeline glowered down, looking from his face to that dark weapon still protruding from his skull. She leaned over, reaching out a hand to clasp the cold handle. With a sharp yank, she pulled it free, a bit of blood leaking from the wound afterward.

"An appropriate weapon for my angel of death." the creature spoke as it revealed itself. It slunk out from the shadows under the bed, using its long dark appendages to pull itself on top of Lewis. It seemed to look down with that bulb she assumed was its head before it continued. "My gift to you." The scythe felt good in her grip. It almost seemed to meld to her fingers. Like it was made for her. An unnatural chill came from the weapon, giving her the feeling that it would remain ice cold even if she left it in a raging fire. Its color was a deep black, nearly matching the darkness around it. It seemed darker though, even more so than the shadows in the room. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Madeline was in this now. There was no going back.

"Now what?" She asked the creature. It reared its "head" up to her and she heard that strange hissing laugh once again. "Now, time to visit the doctor."

* * *

Doctor Allen was finally able to slip away from the hospital and head home. He had to spend most of the night coddling a particularly wealthy patient with a stomach-ache which, annoying as it was, was necessary to make sure he continued donating. It was important to keep their wallets full after all. At the moment, he was gathering his belongings in his office. With his attention drawn away, he did not notice as the darkened corner by his bookcase seemed to peel away, dark tendrils of shadows pulling thin and taunt before snapping away to reveal Madeline's form beneath them. Madeline shook lightly and wavered. It was a new feeling to move in such a way and quite disorientating. However, when her eyes locked with the doctor, she quickly found her focus.

"Doctor Allen," she spoke in a tone much darker than she intended. Her fingers gripped her scythe tightly as she stepped away from the shadows and the creature she knew lay within, watching her. Dr. Allen let out a start and swiftly turned toward the girl. He quickly found his composure and drew in a breath.

"Ah, yes, Miss...Shandon was it?" he said, eliminating any previous unnerve he had. Until his eyes fell upon that scythe. Madeline noted how his eyes widened and he took a step back. "What are you doing in here?" he asked, trying to keep his usual cold composure though a wavering of fear trickled into his voice.

"You were going to leave me to die." Madeline glared at him as she advanced, her bare feet carrying her purposefully toward him. "You left my brother to die." Her voice was cold, focused, and made the doctor swallow. Madeline felt a bit of a rush roll through her. He was...afraid of her. He feared her! The small girl that was once a drunk's punching bag actually made him scared. Her lips curled into a smirk.

"Now, now Miss Shandon. Let's be realistic." He lift both hands as he back further away, soon bumping into another bookshelf. A glance back and then to her, focusing on her as she approached. "You and your brother were in bad shape. Any operation might've simply made things worse. You're lucky-"

"Lucky?" she spat back at him as she pushed forward, standing right in front of the trembling doctor. "Lucky, you were here to tell us to fuck off? Lucky, for what? My brother is dead! I was going to die! Tell me doctor, why the hell should I be lucky!?!" Doctor Allen let out a cry of fear as he raised his hands higher, head tilting away from her.

"Please, it's not like that! It's much more complicated! You don't understand!"

"No, doctor," Madeline shook her head, hand lifting to bring her scythe up into the air. Dr. Allen gasped at the sight and cowered downward. The girl before him looked nothing like the girl that was brought it. There was a darkness about her. And she should not be walking around! Madeline should be on her death bed! "you don't understand. Though, I'll make you." He wasn't going to give her the chance though. Dr. Allen pushed away suddenly, running to the side to attempt to run around her. He barely made it past his desk before she struck.

Madeline's scythe fell down upon his back, tearing into his coat and skin, making the doctor cry out in pain. He stumbled down to his knees, hands reaching back behind him to try and feel for the large gash that gushed blood down his back. Madeline came forward, scythe rising before slicing down on his back again. Another slash followed. And another. Repeatedly, she stabbed at him, each cut echoing with a sickening, meaty sound that rang in her head. Blood splashed about her, soaking into her hospital gown and skin as she relentlessly slashed. Every bit of aggression she held in over her life came out here. Every time Lewis hit her, every time life seemed useless, every time she wanted to just let it all end...it came out in the form of a relentless swing of that scythe into Dr. Allen.

Finally, she slowed when the doctor was a mess of gore and cloth on the ground. The stench of blood was thick in the air and it covered much of her skin and gown. A few long breaths escaped her as she pant. Her high ebbed away and back to reality she went. This wasn't self-defense. This was murder. But so was letting Conner die. So was leaving her to die. He deserved it.