First Person
The fog on the tinted windows was eerie, the souls of my helpless victims wondering aimlessly through the dark cold night. Fog on the ground creeping slowly down the streets slowly falling against the locked doors.
I listen as innocent people scream and shriek in pain as I slowly carve shapes into their skins, the blood slowly trickling down their bruised and broken bodies, arms bent are odd angles shrieking in pain if I were to even touch them. My mind an endless black hole filled with sins, sorrows and regrets.
Bodies thrown into the deep endless ocean, unseeing eyes looking up in to mine accusation in their glazed over eyes, their faces barely visible in the black ocean as they slowly sink down and down.
Life is cruel they told us, life is unfair. I didn't see that then but I do now. Now I know what to do. I must do it. I need to do it. I need it.
My feet pull me forward over the broken bodies of my victims, blood pools around them, a deep crimson. My feet leave bloody footprints behind me. They are now all dead now.
Unshed tears in their glassy eyes. Mouths open in unspoken screams. All this bad for no good. I can't do it anymore. It's over.
I look over the edge, the ground an amazing distance away, cars driving past not knowing what has happened to people they may or may not know. Driving without a care. I glare at the world around me, why have you condemned me to this why am I forced to walk the earth as a sinner. It's over. I'm done. I take a step over the edge. Looking down I see the ground spiralling down towards me, coming closer and closer as seconds go by. They say when you are about to die your life flashes before your eyes but I see nothing, not family moments, no friends, no nothing. Just the hard pavement ground I am so close to hitting, the image of my innocent victims still imprinted in my eyes, closed and open. I smile not a moment to soon, then it was dark, it was nothing. Black.
