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Beautiful Victim
The perfect villain... or the perfect victim?
Growing up, Carrie was Ethan's one true love, his fixation and his constant obsession. Friends to the bloody end, they were each other's rocks whilst navigating...
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There's so much blood.
I've never seen so much blood before.
It paints the walls, dripping from the ceiling. It's a living, breathing thing that's being absorbed into the very foundations of the woodwork. Drops and drips. Splatters and puddles. I don't know where I begin and the blood ends. We are one and the same.
"We have to go."
I nod. But still my feet don't move.
My heart is pounding.
My stomach is rolling and turning. I think I might throw up. The horror embeds itself into my skin. It will never let me go. I'm its prisoner. Now.
Forever.
The blood and me. Together.
I clench my hands. Nails breaking skin. I feel raw and bruised. My eyes are burning. My body is on fire. I wonder how long until I incinerate. Fade away into nothing.
Only the blood...
"We have to go. Now."
Urgent. Desperate.
Sad?
No, not sad. I shake my head. I scratch my arms. I grind my teeth.
No. Not sad.
Blood smells.
I didn't know that before now. It smells so badly that I want to stuff my nose with cotton balls to stop the scent from crawling its way inside.
But I still can't move. I can't turn around and walk away. I can't run from this. I can't even leave the room so how are we going to escape?
We can't.
That's it, isn't it? This is going to be with us both forever. There is no running from this horrible, horrible thing. It binds us together. Her and me. Me and the blood.
But it's the right thing. In my heart I know that.
I look away from the body and down at my shaking hands. Hands I don't recognise as my own.
Whose hands are these that can do so much damage?
Who is this person that destroys without hesitation?
I don't know who I am anymore.
Maybe that's okay. I didn't like who I was anyway.
"Are you all right?"
Am I all right? No, no I'm not all right.
I feel sick again. I swallow the bile that tastes like devastation and vengeance. It's bitter. It shreds me apart.
I'm leaving the room. Feet moving past the death and the gore. Putting distance between us and the sins we have committed. But it's useless. The running. The sin is me. I am the sin. We are constant companions. It will ruin me.
It will take over my life.
"It's going to be okay."
Does she believe the lie?
Maybe she wants to.
I want to.
But I don't.
Lies fester. They annihilate. And in the end their food can't sustain us.
The blood sticks to my shoes. It coats my skin. It's everywhere.
