I'll Make You Bleed

Shattered (Armin POV)

**TRIGGER WARNING: References to SELF-HARM are mentioned in this chapter. If you are sensitive to this subject, please read with caution. 

Written by: thesketchytepe** 

1:17 AM 

In a heartbeat, four people died.

Armin saw Marco fly into the kitchen just as something exploded nearby. It blurred his vision and his ears rang loudly and the next thing he saw was Marco's body lying in a pool of blood, his face smashed into a pulp. An eyeball bulged out of its socket and his limbs twitched once, twice before becoming still.

Another explosion reverberated through the room and Reiner's large body slumped into Armin's line of sight. His face was also crumbled into red chunks and he thought he saw a few white teeth scatter on the kitchen floor. He eventually spotted the shotgun skid across the tiles and bump against the wall.

Armin looked up at Eren who was staring intensely at the back door, lips pulled back like a lion's when another predator dares to ruin his meal. He then whipped his head to his knife that was tucked in the corner of the room and scrambled up to get it. Even though he no longer felt the weight of Eren's knees on his stomach, he still felt them lodged in there. Fear, anger, sorrow, dread, guilt weighed down on him and boiled him alive, melting his bones and burning away his sense of self. He wanted to just lie there and cry, let out all the trapped sentiments that nibbled at his brain like a parasite. Instead he pushed them down even further and rushed after Eren.

Fire flared up his calf and hand as he pushed himself off the floor, slicked with the blood of half a dozen friends, and shoved Eren's hunched back into the wall, grabbing his hair in fistfuls. Eren was in worse shape than Armin—he'd been stabbed three times now—but he was running on pure adrenaline and determination. Armin should've known that he wouldn't take a beating so easily.

Eren groaned in annoyance as if his alarm went off in the morning for him to go to school or work. He reached back and squeezed Armin's hand, the one with the broken pinkie finger. Armin gasped in pain and his grasp on him loosened. Eren took the opportunity and pushed Armin into the wall with the back of his elbow. He then threw in a punch or two for good measure.

As Armin slid down the wall, Eren turned around and dashed to where Reiner's body laid. Berthold was there (Armin hadn't noticed him before); shock prevented him from moving or seeing Eren coming. Eren grabbed Berthold's collar, brought him to eye-level, and, all while maintaining eye contact, slashed the knife across the throat.

Blood spurted from his neck like a water sprinkler as Berthold reached for his throat, gurgling and gasping for air. He collapsed; more blood burst into the air as he looked down at his hands in horror. Eren took hold of his disheveled head of hair and stared into his expression, watching, waiting.

More tears fell from his damp eyes as Armin stared at the killer. He was looking for that light in Berthold's eyes. He wanted to see his life drained from him like the blood escaping him now. He wanted him to cry out, scream, wither beneath him, do something to establish his dominance over him. Eren, his best friend, his brother, was a literal sadistic monster who enjoyed the sight of death taking over the mind of his friends.

But Berthold didn't do anything; his body shuddered and more wet, strained noises squirted from his severed vocal chords. His body ultimately went still and Eren, dissatisfied with Berthold's death, threw him to the side and ran out the door and into the dark once again.

Armin spotted the faint smile on Berthold's lips, his dead eyes forever locked on Reiner's corpse.

He felt light; everything moved in slow motion. He rolled his head to the side and found Jean—poor, broken Jean—screaming in pure rage, tears running down his cheeks and clogging his throat. Mikasa had him in a lock beneath her. Armin's heart broke again at the sight of her, his sister. He always thought she was beautiful, her black hair, midnight eyes, snow white skin, delicate doll-like features. But all that blood and sweat brought out the emptiness in her eyes and stained her seemingly innocent appearance. He never realized that, all this time, she was the haunted doll with a cracked skull that sat in the corner of the bedroom, simply waiting to unleash the demon that possessed her.