Catharsis
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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing7m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 27, 2025
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Fiction
Romance
I'm beginning to understand serial killers. At least, she is. I don't always understand her and at times I'm terrified. She may be my savior. She may be my damnation. I watch the news with devotion after each night she borrows my body, waiting for when the one she left behind is discovered. I see the havoc she wrecks with my hands; the mutilated bodies ripped to shreds and castrated. Always castrated. I know she's experimenting, finding what she likes most, readying her plans for the real bodies she wants to leave. Because she has a list. And I'm the one that made it.
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A question came to me during a reset. A question that has started bleeding through my veins. A question I whisper over and over in my sleep. A question you think I am asking passively. But it stitches into me, coiling around my being. A question I keep asking because it doesn't make sense. All that is left of the world is a city. She is the only person left. She doesn't know what happened, where the people went, why there is no life. You are there. But who are you? What is she? What is she supposed to do when the world resets, and more and more of the city is demolished. She's running out of time. *Completed*

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