The Outcast-COMPLETED

Part 3

All credits for the above photo go to Val Dog (https://unsplash.com/photos/wEO7xYSHZd8) who has a fantastic selection of photos on unsplash.

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Awoken to the pain, he gradually lifted his body while searching for his companion.

'Rufus, where are you boy?'

'Rufus!' He shouted while running through the damp alleyway before reaching the abandoned warehouse. His home, this warehouse stood as a memory from another time. The ground floor contained rusted conveyor belts and wooden pens that had once held animals sentenced to death. Overhead beans stretched high above him with rain dripping through the ceiling cracks. The next level staircase missed several steps with sharp broken pieces of wood protruding from the whole steps. Wounded, he climbed the stairs like an old pensioner, carefully dodging the gaps in the staircase. Eventually, he reached his bedroom; a damp smelling office with shattered windows, a cardboard bed and a battered wooden desk. The limping desk stood against the only intact window. Cobwebs hanged like curtains covering the window panes. Slowly, walked over to the desk, murky with dirt, Rufus lay.

'Rufus.' Tears trickled down his face cleansing the dirty blood streaks on his cheeks. They had stolen his eyes, gorged with blood he could no longer see. His paws curled beside his body, bloody and discoloured. He could no longer walk. They had cut him from neck to lower thorax. Trails of muddy blood around his body revealed scattered pieces of fleshy organs. The outcast covered his mouth in disbelieve, disgusted he held back the urge to vomit.

'SICK! Fucking sick! NOOO!!!' Angrily he thumped his fist hard against the table, Rufus's body jittered from the impact vibrations. His heart sank like a ship, drowning in waves of sadness. Delicately he detached Rufus from the table. Marching downstairs he placed his body on the grass outside the warehouse. Rushing back inside he retrieved something sharp. Grabbing a rusty sharp pole, he began to dig his final resting place.

'Rest in peace Rufus,' he said.

Contemplating his existence, he wandered his lonely road back the city. Darkness disappeared as the sun rose from the east. Orange coloured light masqueraded the peaceful town. The horizon did not stop for any death. Covered in blood, he didn't care to stop; he couldn't stop.

'Hey stranger,' Bill exclaimed. Ignoring him, the outcast continued to walk.

'Hey, are you ok?' Bill grabbed the outcast stopping him in his tracks.

'Is... is that blood? What happened?'

'They killed him. They fucking killed him.'

'Listen, you're not making any sense. Come with me.' Bill released his tightening grip from the old man's coat. Forcefully he guided him away from plain sight. Upon arriving at Bill's, he sent the outcast to clean. Hot running water felt foreign to the outcast, it had been a long time since he had bathed.

Knock, Knock!

'Are you decent?'

'Yes.' Bill handed the man some old clothes through the small gap in the bathroom door. He gave him faded blue coloured jeans, an old iron-maiden t-shirt, a cotton navy blue jumper and a long dark brown trench coat. Glaring at the stranger in the bathroom mirror; the outcast removed his tattered beard. Caressing his cheeks, he felt the softness of his face.

'What did you mean back there?'

'They killed Rufus.'

'They, what?'

'Kids, kids slaughtered him.'

'Oh dear, why would they do such a thing?'

'Who cares, they aren't getting away with this...'

'You have never told me your name?'

'John.'

'John, before you do anything-

'Did they think? No! They killed a harmless dog, for nothing!' he furiously interjected.