Unstoppable

The Thirtieth

(A nice song to listen to whilst reading his chapter is called 'A magnificent Grey- slow meadow')

The world suddenly seems grey-er.
Poppy laughed, a light, and sweet sound, almost like nectar. But, just like nectar, it was gone way too soon.
"That's adorable! Awww, I'll tell you what, I'm in such a good mood, I'll let you run along again. I don't need to do this. Neither do you. Look around!" Poppy gestured to the seemingly endless fields and the school I've spent countless sad days in.
"It's a beautiful evening. Why not enjoy it? I really don't want to kill you." She offered her hand, a sign of reconciliation, peace, and moving on.
Ah, it's a nice shade of grey though. A shade where one can forget the troubles of his past and move on to his future.
I stepped forward. Her hand was still there. This was no trick. There truly was no trick. She really did want to move on, to put it behind her.
"Why should I trust you?" I asked her, staring her down. A few seconds of silence passed before she realised that she had to speak. She knew it wasn't going to work out if she didn't.
"You shouldn't. And I wouldn't be surprised. I wouldn't be surprised at all." She continued after a short, sobbed breath. "But you have to. For the good of yourself and everyone else, you really have to. Adam... I really don't want to have to kill you, again. Every time I let that thing out, it becomes stronger. I can't fight it. It'll take over if I let it out again."
The grey would mix in with a nice black. Maybe that's the colour of her blood?
I took another step. I knew fate pulled me closer and closer to her. Everything around me and her zoomed in, almost too far, allowing me nothing but the view of her. My hands came out in a right angle shape, the perfect angle to shake it from, before my body stopped, and I remembered. I remembered the time she called me filth. The time she forced me to burn myself into flames. The time she tried to kill me again, and succeeded. Those clawed hands....
This... this ain't right. This isn't how it should be. I can sense it. I... Maybe... maybe just a small bit of killing is okay. For the right cause.
"Adam..." I heard desperation in her voice. She seemed to struggle, almost choke out the words as she spoke, acting as if something was killing her from the inside.
"Please, Adam... forgive me."
My hand retracted itself. I watched as it slid back into my pocket, and I watched as the sun slowing got slimmer over the horizon as Poppy collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor, seeming to fold in on herself. The crying she made could be heard clearly, and I stood there and watched, not caring. Sick of caring. Sick of everything. Sick of having to put up with all this.

I don't remember how it happened, but I remember blinking, and then I remember having the knife in my hands.
Perfect. Almost too perfect.
It was your average, run-of-the-mill kitchen knife: around four inches long, curved, and looked like it cut up full on chunks of bull meat for a living. The sunlight, still fading into darkness, glinted, hinting at what the fuck was about to happen. I remember rolling the thing around in my hands for a few seconds before coming to terms with what I was about to do.
This.. this is murder. And murder... Murder is acceptable.
"Adam, no." I heard her voice break, even through the intimidating voice she gave me. I looked at her, and she must've seen something, because she recoiled back, still on her knees, and fell. Scrabbling, she seemed to start running, and my body seemed to put two and two together faster than I could. Flipping the knife skilfully in my hands, I adjusted the grip, and threw. I swear, I saw every second of this in slow motion as it tore through the air, leaving behind an almost whistling sound, like a master asking for its dog. Then, as it darted nearer, I saw her turn, and just had enough to take an immense amount of pleasure in how surprised her face was before the knife implanted itself there, slowing her pace down significantly. It allowed me to start walking towards her in a slow-ish pace, having nothing more to worry about. She kind of stopped at first, looking at the thing protruding from her nose before screaming sharply. So sharply in fact that it caused me to cock my head and actually take in that she was crying. This was actual pain. She wasn't immortal, or a god, or whatever I thought. Just...
Just another human. In a world full of them.
After that proved nothing, she kind of staggered towards the edge of the field, clearly trying to get away. I'm surprised she was still alive and conscious, considering where I threw it. I'd managed to catch up to her, and in an effort to stop her, I stuck my leg out and tripped her over. Clearly, I didn't think this through, because me doing this shifted all of the centre of her gravity to her front. And what was in her face, front-wise?
Exactly.
The knife crisply slashed through her entire head, skull and all, before standing itself in the gash it had made. Blood splattered everywhere: all over the grass, the tiles nearby, the fence, and even a small bit on my shoes. The sudden lingering smell of metallic substance was clear in the air as I stood around one step away from Poppy as she bled to death face down, screaming and crying.
I could turn you over. I could comfort you. I could tell you you were a good person, and that the next life is better than this one, but I won't. Because only good people deserve justice like that. And you... You are not a good person.
I stood there, just watching the puddle of blood get larger and larger, and her body seize up more and more, until she either drowned in her blood or died from the knife wound.
I would say, personally, it's a rather magnificent grey.
Looking at the night sky surrounding me, I noted the colour.
Very magnificent indeed.