Memories of the Dead
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- Parts 9
I have a wager that when most people wake up, they don't wake up in a dark apartment with three bodies surrounding them and no memory about anything that might provide answers. I also wager that while most people want to be famous, they don't want to be famous for a massacre the media can't stop harping about.
Well, both happens to me. Unfortunately.
And while everyone claims I did it, I'm not so certain. Not that I'm certain of anything. I can't even say what color my eyes are or why when I touch someone, I see their death. But if I'm to be thrown in prison, I might as well have done it. There must be a logical explanation to why I stalked and threatened the victims.
And thus begins my journey to rediscover who I am and why I woke up covered in blood that day - all with the help of a high school girl who spends her moments lost in virtual reality.
Let's see if I survive the night.
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#92
fugitive
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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