"Get up freak!"..... "Yeah Bozo! Get up and take it like the runt you are!"..... "Guys it doesn't get it, hit it some more!"
There was four of them. All the same. The streets were lit by the lights over head. The roads were deserted. Nobody in sight but the bodies of murderers. I was alone out there, with only the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet. None giving me any good right about now.
I was wearing a purple turtle neck shirt, which was now covered in blood. Black pants with ripped knees. And tennis shoes.
"Aye!" A distant bodied voice yelled. "Leave! Now!" His steps were getting closer and closer. " Leave now before you regret your decision." He said threateningly.
"And why shall we listen to you?" One of the guys squeaked.
"yeah you" His followers commented.
He man smirked, "Because of this."
The next thing I say were bodies being ripped apart, limbs being thrown, and blood being spilt. The 4 boys were gone. It was only me and hell's father.
He licked his fingers and looked at me. I stared at him. Mouth agape.
"W-what are you?" I murmured.
"Don't worry about that. The real question is, what are you." And he disappeared. Leaving only me and the pile of dead murders.
