Savage Evil

Prologue

   Have you ever thought how does it feel to cut a person's flesh? Or how does it feel to hear a human's last breath or their slow painful cry? I've never thought about such things until I've been hospitalized after trying to commit another suicide. I have tried this, so many times, by cutting my veins or hanging myself repeatedly. The most pleasant view my brown iris can see is watching the hot blood dripping slowly off my forearm until it reaches my palm, and goes down on my fingers. By this time it usually cools down and the wide-open cut, allows the lawless dust from air to go inside it, then into my body. 
    A few years ago, every time I tried doing such things, my mother would try to stop me or an unknown event would occur and I would wake up in the hospital. My doctor, Jake Hallway, already knows me, as he saw me so many times lying on that old, rusty bed, and he is the one who discovered the thing i hate the most: congenital analgesia. It is a rare disease that screws up people's lives, because it makes the wearer to have a screwed up nervous system and to have insensitivity to pain, he calls it C.I.P.

   As I am lying down in the bed, a deep yet old voice is talking in the hallway, it has to be the doctor, talking to what it seems a young woman's voice. The silhouettes of these two, shows me that the woman is way shorter than the doctor, and as well of having a long hair.In my head, I am thinking that the woman's silhouette has to be another nurse. I am looking at my patched-up arm, thinking that this time I should've cut even deeper, or at least lock the door up.

   The door opens with a long squeak, and the two people I have watched talk for minutes that seemed like ages enter my room. The Doctor is a tall, old but yet muscular man. He has a long black beard, but a bald head that even the light is afraid to touch it, as his baldness sucks light the same way as a black hole sucking photons. His personality is a sarcastic, grumpy old man, but yet very helpful, as a very optimistic guy. He usually tries his best to save a life, and if he doesn't succeeds to do so, he drowns his bitterness in coffee or cheap beer.

   - Let's see, Edward Allan, CIP and what it seems a wide cut to his left forearm, three other cuts on his right forearm. You still haven't stopped, Edward? You know that one day you will make a mistake and end up in a coffin with 4 nails from head to bottom,...he said this with a bold, bossy voice, while rubbing his forehead and looking on my file... , did you take your pills this time?

   The magical fixing anxiety and depression pills! Do they work? NO.  I feel that he just gives me pills made from sugar, on a „major" variety colors! RED AND YELLOW! I think that these colored pills won't cure my clinical depression and my post-traumatic stress disorder acquired from my abusive father, but hey, he is a doctor, I guess he knows much more about pills than I do, right?

   - Last time you've came here, you were in a way worse shape than now, it would have been like that time, but luckily with your neighbor, this woman called an ambulance.

I am clearing my throat hardly, as he gives me a glass of sugar-water. While drinking I am looking at the woman, I realize that she is the same silhouette from the hall, the short woman with a long hair. Her hair is of a pure-gold blond, and her chubby face highlight her blue eyes, with such a perfect color, that any husky would be gealous.

   - Hello, mister Edward, I am your neighbor, Luna Isla, I am living next door. 

Her voice is stunning, a high-pitched voice of a young child. After finishing my sugar-water drink, I am looking back at the doctor, after being charmed by her eyes.

   - I d.. I don't... 

My voice is dying while trying to tell the doctor that i don't know this woman, and she doesn't even look like any of my neighbors, but I can't clear the thoughts of her beautiful eyes, or maybe because of the blood loss. She looks at me with a pair of big, bubbled eyes, as a signal that I better shut the hell up.

   - You don't... what? You don't what mister Edward? He blankly stares at me, with his eyebrows risen.

   - Oh!-I scream-, Luna! Yes! Now I remember about you-i don't-. Probably this is my most fake and probably dumbest reaction I've ever had, I wonder if he will believe me.

   - Nothing suspicious at all... hm, okay mister, I will patch you up, wait a few days and send you to miss Prudence for 10 sessions, I wan't you to stay there for all of them, or I will be upset, you maybe don't care, but think to me as another person with their hard time.

Another person...? Like I would care about someone? But I remember now my blood being sprayed on the wall, or the one on the floor, I wonder... how would it be if someone's blood was sprayed like mine? Would it still go cold? Will it create the same pattern as mine? How would a human look after being skinned alive? Would there be a lot of blood? - I'm thinking, but getting interrupted by Jake while he is clearing his throat.-

   - Another psychiatrist? She will probably give me another set of pills that are way more expensive that I earn in a month!

   - Doctor psychiatrist Prudence is a very understanding person, just tell her the truth and the situation you are in, and maybe she will gave you a prescription, but don't become an addict.

   - Fine, can I still take these ones you give me? They taste good.

   - No, you will stop being on my pills treatment, but if the situation with Doctor psychiatrist goes well, I will give you another set for those anger issues that you have. Now, let's go to OR, and patch your hands up.

-A few days later-

While walking home, to deliver my mother a bouquet of flowers, I notice her door being wide open. I am rushing in, thinking of the worst, while having something that seems probably the WORST gut feeling. And the gut was right, as I enter the old house, the living room is full of stains. Upon entering the bedroom, something heavy was blocking the door. I take a few steps back and rush straight in the door with my shoulder. A heavy crack goes, which probably means that I broke it, but unfortunately CIP blocks it, and I can't feel anything. As I enter the bedroom, my worst fear came true, and my the terrible gut was right... My mother's body is lying behind the door, with the chest open, and a knife in her right leg that i take out... I rush to call an ambulance and the cops. The paramedics start covering her in a pitch-black bag, while starting to interview me about what happened, as I knew something that I was hiding.