Practical Gods

o.3

Q U O T E 

"revenge may be achieved but there is no satisfaction you hunger"

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P O S I T I V E

oneshot| #FreeMentalIllness

This to show the effects mentally being diagnosed with HIV.

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I am positive.

Positive that I will make her pay.

I walked through the corridors up to hers. I remember walking down these hallways 3 months ago. The artificial light flashed creating mutilated shadows.

My feet tapped the ground aggressively. I had a purpose, to reach her; to reach Catherine, if that's even her real name. The slut that had- I shook my head walking down the hallway faster, through the flats.

The smell of fresh pee and old pee mixed creating a tangy, disgusting smell and taste on my tongue. The walls moved behind me, their door numbers flashing as I moved forward.

I remember walking down these hallways at a slower rate, but not alone. She had draped herself all over me and she giggled completely wasted...and in the mood. We had sex and I had to admit, it was nice.

She was a good lay but I regret it so much. So, so much. She had been so kind, and I had watched her in the club for days until I got the courage to approach her.

I wanted to go out with her but she said, "Just a one-night stand, no more than that." I remember my face falling and her pinching my cheeks.

I began running as my rage fueled me. It was her fault; all her fucking fault. My chest rose up and down as I ran not only because of exertion but also because anger and frustration. It's her fault.

I stopped realising I had reached the door. The black door had a golden number at the top: the number: 58.

I knocked on the door but no-one answered and I knocked with more force and repeatedly. Until a man opened the door, and said, "The fuck do you want."

I answered, "Get the fuck out!" I shouted. Being a henchman, I scared him enough to make him leave with only boxers on. She really was a hoe, this bitch fucked anyone.

I walked in and she shouted from the bedroom, "What's taking you so long baby? Come back to bed." I remember that voice being so cute and enticing but now it just irked me. I growled as I walked through her house knowing exactly where the bedroom was.

I chuckled and took off my clothes only wearing boxers acting like the guy I just kicked out. I put my clothes on the kitchen floor as it was a door away from her bedroom. The room was dark when I entered and moved onto the bed. She grabbed onto me and it took a lot of willpower not to hit her right then.

I let her kiss my neck and she said, "Oh, you smell different."

"It must be the air." I muffled my voice by kissing her neck so she didn't recognize me.

"Oh, what muscles you have!" She said in awe.

"I gained muscle to impress you baby." I said kissing her lips.

"Oh. Your voice is deeper, much sexier." She said.

I placed a finger on her lips to silence her and caressed her.

"Oh! Your hands are so huge." She said holding one hand. I moved my hands away from her.

"All the better to strangle you with!" My hands closed on her neck. She tried to move away, her breaths beginning to become shallow.

I wrapped my huge hands around her fragile neck and began to squeeze. She began to scream and struggle but she couldn't escape me. What I didn't see was the lamp heading for my head thrown by the bitch's free hand.

She wiggled free in my state of dizziness and ran away screaming, "Help!"

The neighbours probably thought it was role play completely used to her screams but not realising these were screams for life.

I walked after her to see her standing in the kitchen holding a knife with a light on. Her hands wavered with fear. When I entered the kitchen, my face was uncovered and she nearly dropped the knife.

"Oh! Don't scare me like that Jake." She smiled and put down the knife.

I walked towards her but not aggressively and pushed away the knife and grabbed her neck. She began to squeal, and scratched at my hands.

I smiled sadistically, "My name is not fucking Jake, fucking whore. My name is Logan, get it fucking right."

"It's all your fault." I squeezed harder and she breath begged for air.

"Please, don't. I'm pregnant." she said through breaths of air. She should've saved them because I don't care. I was too angry to care.

"That baby is probably not mine; you're a slut." I stated completely unaffected by her pleas.

I squeezed harder and then I heard the crack. It echoed across the kitchen walls as if mourning her insignificant death.

I don't feel happy or sad but just relieved. It was her fault that I had to kill her. I left her body on the floor, she was a waste of space.

My cellphone rang and I answered, "I'm sorry to cause you so much grief but we had made a mistake. You are not HIV positive. The nurse had made a small mistake, you have tested negative."

I am negative.