Bloodied and Criminally Ill

Chapter 1 The Golden Bloody Axe

The sound of metal being dragged across the ground fills the dank alleyway, slow, almost melodic footsteps follow suite.

Huffing, the Girl ran from her slow striding follower, turning the corner she stays hidden behind the brick wall.

Time passes as she cannot hear the clanging of the axe. Gathering all the courage she could she turns the corner looking back to see nothing but the dim light of the street lamp that shown through the alley.

She turns back against the wall, leaning against it to gather her breath again, only to choke a bit as she heard the deep chuckling of who can only be assumed as the axe wielding follower.
She covers her mouth hoping to death that he wouldn't round that corner.

"So Ignorant, So Naive, It's not the dark corners you should fear, take a look up and let me bask in your glory."

Her eyes widen as she slowly looks up, the tundra white fur and piercing yellow eyes of a half faced cat stared down at her. Before she had time, the axe was swung down and embedded between her eyes and in her skull.

He hopped down from the balcony he stood on, yanking his golden axe out of her head, her body falling to the ground, he lets out a "tsk"

"I tried to warn you, doll, I really did, at this time of night you can't really trust anyone, I'm not sure what made you want to talk to someone holding an axe though"

He thinks out loud, shrugging it off he straps the axe to his back and bags up the body, the town was nearly desolate, boarded up houses, crack dens, corrupt cops and murderers filled this once lovely place. He walked to the forest of the town and buried the small girl's body, finishing the grave off with a makeshift cross made of twine and sticks.

He dusts himself off, fixing his, some what, formal attire, he had his fun for the night trudging back home, his back aching, opening and locking the door behind him he enters the kitchen to grab a glass of water, the dirty water slowly ran out of the faucet, the run down house probably hasn't had proper plumbing in years. He downs the nasty water quickly with a cringe, setting the glass in the sink then leaving to the living room.

He flops onto the torn up couch and flips on the surprisingly working tv, the picture was in black and white and most of the audio is static, he doesn't mind.

Half way into the film he touches his head, looking in a mirror besides the tv, tired eyes, the deep black socket and scarred skin, exposed skull and brain staring back at him.

"Don't look at me you unkempt swine" he growled at the mirror

"Hiding from the Truth won't get you far, child, he who's hands carry the blood of innocence that is not shared by his own, is a sin as great as murder" the reflection spoke

He snarls and swings his axe at the mirror in a act of rage, huffing he sat and lied down covering his face as he listened to the worried ramblings of his disfigured roommate, who ran down the stairs after hearing the glass shatter. Blacking out and disassociating from reality as the speaking halts and his eye lids finally flutter closed as he drifts into sleep, something he hasn't gotten for a few days.