Frozen rain showered on the landscape, soaking Olive from head to toe. Her body began to shiver, although she ignored it, focused intently on her agenda. A headache began to form, but a stern look remained plastered on her face. The weapon was shaken in her grip, but became firm as she came near.
Her breathing was shallow, not heard under the background noise of falling droplets. Shit.. She'd heard movement and was about to retreat before realizing it was a mere stray cat, one that'd ran off before she could even turn around. The ragged breath of her victim was painful to hear, loud and short. As the first blow went down a shriek was attempted but failed to release. As it pierced through feather and flesh, red liquid oozed out. The once brown hued bird now was splattered in a mess of deep burgundy. The blows went down repeatedly, becoming more and more ruthless. One through its eye, mangled to a point where the head and torso couldn't be told apart. Overkill they call it, although that didn't mean a thing to Olive. Crunch! She'd hit bone. Intestine sprawled upon the ground, deeper damaged as she put her hands to use. Ripping the carefully put organs, eyes wide and crazed; excitement filled the atmosphere. Skin had caught in her nails as she was prying her way through. Her clothing was stained with its sickening remains, she smelt of its rotting filth. Pounding down with her fists she screamed, one that could slice through her vocal cords; a miracle it didn't. The last of her rage was unleashed. She stood to set her eyes upon her doing. A messy collection of sliced skin and cracked bones were scattered about; mangled the bird was, its, what used to be a wing was cracked backwards hanging from a thin string of tissue. No longer did it have legs, those were nowhere to be found, buried beneath the pile of other remains. Its head was now but a deep maroon, feathered ball of insides, really, its beak now lay by the browned and white semi circular, blood splattered organ that used to be an eyeball. Her crazed eye was calming, breathing becoming relevant once more. Magets wouldn't seize from devouring this delicious messy meal.
Olive stood there, unshaken and stiff, in deep thought of her next move. Stepping into view of the street she journeyed home, being sure to keep out of sight. Her mind now but a blank slate, stimulated by the droning of buzzing lights and howling air, not bothered by the now calmed rain. It's down pour had concealed small fragments of the blood curdling stench.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Gone But You're Still Here
Teen FictionOlive Marianne Parker A girl with blood lust... Her father is dissmissive yet concernced. Anxious yet familiar with the creak of the window signaling his daughter is home. There's a stir, though, when Valerie befriends Olive, a rare sight indeed. H...
