Chapter Six: Blood Like Rain

Chapter Six:Blood like Rain

(Warning,this chapter is very gorey and macabre and intense, if you can’t handle that sort of thing it’s best that you skip this chapter altogether.)

The blood is like rain. It goes about falling and contaminating everything it could possibly touch. I expected this- when you shoot someone in the head with a holy bullet and they’re the host of a spirit or demon, there’s always so much blood. What I didn’t expect was to watch the blood as it fell on me with a numb face, with a heart that was weighted down by the act of murder. I knew she was possessed- I knew they were merged- I knew there was no other way- and yet I didn’t expect her head to explode like that. Like someone who had been harboring a demon for a long time. Missy wasn’t even giving a demon refuge, technically.( Hunters are very…. choosey about using the term ‘demon’, demons and spirits are on entirely different levels.) So maybe Missy…..Even a sweet sorority girl like Missy, could have been harboring her own demons inside of her heart. We all harbor demons inside….guilt is one of them. Guilt is what I feel now. Guilt that there was no way that I could save her.

If rain was warm, like a living body, If rain had ever been the true essence of life- maybe then I would be able to believe that this was only rain. But I can’t. Because this isn’t. And it never will be. Not until the day the apocalypse rises to destroy the world.

I’m so numb I don’t hear Dean and Jayce storm in, barrelling in as fast as you can when you’ve just wasted about an hour fixing your brother’s foot because his ex-girlfriend ran over it with her truck.(I still say it was worth it). I hear Ripper starting to howl, and I excuse myself very slowly.

“V!” Clayton exclaims. He’s still injured- and I know that if I stay only prying questions will await me. It takes all of the will that I have to look back at him. His eyes are wide- as though he never really believed that I could be what I am. Merciless. A monster hunter. He is pale, ashen even, I give his injured leg a quick glance.

“I owe you an apology, Clayton. I can’t explain now. But I’m going to clean this up as best as I can- and then you don’t have to worry about associating with me ever again.”

“V…..what are you-”

“I am a hunter, Clayton, that’s all I can tell you.” I say, picking up Missy’s decapitated corpse as I leave and go to find Quinton’s corpse as well. It isn’t very hard to find. The scent of death is never hard to follow.

“Take care of him while I handle this,ok?” I tell Dean and Jayce with a flat tone, putting the bodies in the bed of my truck and pulling a black tarp over them. I go back inside and grab VIlla, who is still clinging to life, I put her in the passenger seat and let Rip hop in before I get in on the driver’s side.

I don’t really give them the chance to say yes or no- I start the truck and back up out of the driveway, barreling down the road as gently as old Selena can muster. VIlla yips and pines. I pull into the emergency veterinary clinic’s parking lot. I ring the service bell and leave her there, with my wallet, containing my I.D and money. I’ll be back for her, but there’s still another pressing matter to deal with. Ripper whines and sticks his head out of the window as I drive away from the clinic too, but he knows that we can’t stay.

I take many old forgotten backroads, not even paved and probably unexplored for the greater part of the century. The sun is starting to rise. It is Sunday morning. The sun- a good sign that I’ve lived to see another day, but a mockery considering what lies in the bed of my truck. How could there still be light after a night like this? The god that people will soon be waking to worship- how could there be a righteous god worthy of their worship after this night? He condemned Missy and Quinton, turned a blind eye to their suffering. Just as he turned a blind eye to my brother, to Dean and Jayce with the horrid death of their mother, to all of us hunters everywhere. Maybe our true blessing, our real gift, is that god has turned his blind eye to us. He no longer cares what we do or how we do it. He has condemned us from the start. Condemned us to clean up the messes he finds unworthy of his attention. He’s condemned us to a life of  hell- and an afterlife of it once all is said and done. A life where blood falls like rain……

The image will forever remain scalded into my mind. Blood like rain. Falling everywhere. Touching everything. Touching me. ‘Drip drop, drip drop...’ it pattered on the desk and runs down my arms in little crimson rivers……

I shake myself out of it. Never before had I made such a close range explosive shot. It is only natural that it would have some sort of impact on me- right? The dried blood all over my body cracks and flakes as I shift, trying to drive with a dislocated arm is not the easiest task, especially since Selena requires a lot of force to steer- but I know better than to complain when there are people suffering much more than I. Exhibit A- The remnants of Clayton’s family, Exhibit B- the two mangled corpses in the bed of my truck. I can almost swear I can hear them bumping around back there, rattling and clunking- but I know that is all in my head too. The bed of my truck is hunkered down like a bunker with weapons, ammunition, supplies, and rations. There was scarcely room to tuck their bodies inside under the tarp. How much of a serial killer I must sound like….

I veer off of the unexplored dirt path. Hunters, and maybe a few stray humans, had only used this path in the past. I drive Selena a ways into the forest, very off-road, very hard terrain to navigate in such a large vehicle. When the trees become too dense to work through, I click off the engine and wince as I drop out of the elevated seat of my truck onto the ground below. The leaves and pine-needles crunch under my heavy boots, morning light has yet to reach here, the forest hangs in the taunting dusky haze of twilight, shadows and insects creeping around as the world sleeps. I open the bed of my truck and remove the tarp, setting it on the ground and folding it up neatly. The bodies have created quite a mess in my truck, one that I’ll have to bleach and scrub away later. I pick up Missy first and lug her over my shoulder, I force myself to take Quinton in my arms despite the piercing pain in my shoulder. I can’t even bring myself to look down at Quinton’s corpse. His body has already started to deteriorate, and the smell of it makes my eyes water. I can’t bear to look down and see him like this. I begin to hike through the trees, hunkered down with this extra weight. The folded tarp is rolled up underneath my arm.

I never knew Missy very well- she was always off at college, in her sorority, studying to become a marine biologist. But Quinton- Quinton was one of my few friends. He was Clayton’s little brother, he always hung around Clayton and I like a little puppy when we were children. He had wanted to become an inventor. He would go on and on about his ideas, his revolutionary philosophies…..

I force myself to stop, usually I would venture further into the forest- but this time, right here will have to do. There are two bodies and my shoulder still hurts. There’s a tall pine tree that looks just like all of the others in this dense forest. I set the bodies nearby and go back to the truck, I return with a shovel, salt, a water bottle, a canteen, two candles and a lighter. I unroll the tarp and drape it over the two bodies so I don’t have to look at them as I dig. It’s that sort of thing that tries to trick your mind, ‘If I can’t see them, they aren’t there.’. But my mind is too smart for that. It doesn’t work. I don’t know why I try- It never works.

I break soil at the base of the tree with the shovel. Even it’s sharp edge takes a lot of force and power to break up the earth. From then- I pour every ounce of anger, frustration, sadness, helplessness, strength, pain, and regret into digging that large 5 ft x 8 ft x 10 ft deep hole. My sweat is a rusty red-brown color as it drips off of my nose, washing away some of the trails of dried blood that cover my skin like an infection of sorts. I always like to dig the graves, especially i it was someone I knew, well, like is the wrong word to use. I prefer to be the one to dig the graves of ones who I knew in life.

‘You’re one of those.’ Papa had said when I was eleven and was insistantly digging the grave for Casey, a girl in my class who died at the hands of a lupin, on my own. He had stood aside and watched patiently. As though he knew this was something I had to do. I didn’t cry. Not even as the blisters formed on my hands. And I didn’t let anyone else contribute- not in the removal of a single scoop of dirt. ‘What do you mean?’ I had asked, hoisting another scoop out of the hole that was by then up to my slim hips. ‘You’re one of those hunters that digs the graves on their own. It’s not a bad thing Veve, It’s just how some people obtain closure.’.

‘Closure’ he had called it. Closure. The act of ending something and ending it for good. Yes- that is what I need, that is what I seek. I seek closure for many things, for many of the incomplete shadows that make up my past. Digging graves may be one way I attempt to physically convince myself that it is over- and over for good. A book closed. The last note faded. The period at the end of a memoir. The last goodbye. And so- while digging this grave, pouring myself and all of my effort into it- I will obtain my closure, won’t I? That’s how this has always worked before…..

“AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGggggggggH!” I scream as I stab the shovel into the dirt, stabbing and thrusting over and over again, my heart pounding as I throw a tantrum in the face of whatever self righteous god may be out there. In front of his eyes and his alone. Let him see how angry I am, how bloodthirsty, how ENRAGED. Let him see how much he has hurt me and how broken my existence has become. Let him see that he will NEVER have my love, my thanks. Let him see how torn apart his creation truly is.

The good thing about sweat is that through it- you can hardly feel tears. And even if you do cry- you can pass it off. So I didn’t cry. Among the soil, the pain, the silence, the rage- I did not cry.

I throw the bodies into the deep hole and push the great mound of dirt back over them with special care, mixing in salt with the dirt. I stop only once to take a deep drink from my water bottle before moving on with what must be done. I melt the wax of the candles on top of the soil into two holy emblems, seals that will ensure that these remains will never be contaminated or tampered with again. I bend down and set the lighter to the soil and take a step back. The unearthly flame alights the salt mixed earth and licks at the wax seals. I watch as it blazes bright but for only a moment- and then dies back into embers. I pick up my tarp and shovel- and I leave. I don’t look back. I don’t cry. I don’t think. I have to close this like I have closed everything else-

No looking back.

No tears.

Just remembering the day….

The day that blood fell like rain.

Reviews

[Silent Wolf]

Wow. Nice chapter. I like the details. And I love how she feels. I can already see that she is beginning to change, to break, going from hard and "careless" to softish and "caring".
100/100

[RedRozeNinja13]

V- soft? Psssssssssssssssssssssssssh. Never! I'm sorry to say though that this story may be cancelled due to lack of interest/readers.

[Silent Wolf]

NOOOOOOOOOO! :( But i like da cookie... *said in squirrell's voice from Over The Hedge*

[RedRozeNinja13]

only about three people are consecutively reading it :( it's rather disappointing and very much a let down on my self esteem as a writer.

[Silent Wolf]

If you keep it up long enough, I'm sure more will read it. I do that alot, go look at old writing...

[RedRozeNinja13]

To those who care- this story may be terminated due to lack of readers/interest. I like it- but apparently others don't so much. Without interest there's no reason to continue posting a story, right?

[EmaleighLynn]

Oh my....... No, don't rewrite it, it's perfect! Sad and angry and terrifying and horrible all rolled into one, and yet the words are so beautiful, so perfect in the way you wrote them. It's poignant and lovely and I can't...... Deal with it.

[Catherine Frain]

This shows so much of V's personality, even though this is gory. It shows her true personality, the one she tries hard to hide it for people.

[RedRozeNinja13]

I'm probably going to rewrite this so it's more well written ^ ^; sorry about that.