Pitter patter down a darkened street, jaws agape, paws quickened. A barbarous longing, an atrocious urge to sink those ghastly bones known as fangs into his victim's soft, tender flesh. The creature had no need for thought, only primal instinct. Or, what it was made for. To levy ache and angst upon whomever it was destined to chase until viciously crushed upon it's malicious teeth. And, on that precise night, this one's prey had strayed close to its predator, falling helplessly into the trap of inpulchritudinous death. A girl was the one running, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she heard the beast's claws ferociously clattering on the pavement. How had it even come to this? A few violent ideas leading up to the next, a few... strays unto unknown world. It had been ever since she was young, lingering screams, horrible images, and the all-knowing fact that Hell was awaiting her with open arms. She'd known of this creature for as long as she lived, praising it, reading it, practically worshipping it, as if it's some type of God. Known as the Hellhound, a distorted demomic presence in it's own ill, beautiful way. How could she not obsess? How could anyone not obsess? It was still, in a way, true delicacy. It's snarling sounds, fear-striking sounds. Though, she had not much time to mull over her love for them, she needed to get away. Not that being a brutually murdered by such a magnificent manifestation would be a great honor, now was not the time. Though, at this very point, her fate was determined. No escape was possible. Though, one only did so, even bloody and violent, in the far off corners of their unknowingly blackened mind. Her green gaze looked up towards the sky, the stars twinkling normally, as if nothing was different from the world's regular routine. They were wrong. Their light rings of light had no clue of the blood that would stain the darkened pavement, splatter everywhere. The creature, a Hellhound, slowed it's pace after nipping at the girl's ankles and legs, leaving a flow of sticky, crimson fluid running down them. The loud scream the victim of the bites let out was satisfying enough. It wanted to hear more. More of that horrendous pain, that incredibly demented laughter of the agonized soul, belonging to that one innocent girl. The girl felt every second of it. Every second of death. The ripping, the tearing, the way her blood splattered everywhere, smearing the concrete as her and the creature she adored fought for the twisted life deep inside of her. The creature would win, of course. The pain weakened her, made her feel worthless inside. Although, it was more of a mixed feeling. After all, she idolized the Hellhound. Thousands of needles struck her at various points, making her yowl in agony. Never-ending nothingness seemed pitiful next to eternal torment. Why was she still fighting anyway? The girl went limp, allowing the creature to snarl and sink his knives, otherwise known as fangs into her supple flesh. It hurt, sure, but it would all be over anyway. It was at that moment she felt hot, reeking decay brush against her ear.
