3. Killing The Past

Rema finds herself targeted by an angry face from her past, and unleashes the hurt she's tried so hard to run from. While Frey makes a mistake during a murder.

-Frey-

The nights are getting colder, fall slowly turning into winter.  The streets become covered in ice at night and the old jacket does nothing to block the wind.  It's past midnight, so most places are closed and I have no where to go.

'You know what'd warm you right up? Bathing in warm blood!'

"Shut up."

I keep walking, arms wrapped around myself.  The image of blood soaking my hands is almost comforting. The warmth and thick feeling of it is so tempting.  Even if I didn't feel like killing, I could always slice into my arm a few times. I find myself wondering if I should...

I'm still really tired. It's going on nine days since I last slept. I'll probably end up falling asleep pretty soon.  I can't fight it much longer no matter how badly I want to.  I have the mind power, but my body doesn't want to go on anymore.  It wants to just collapse right here on the pavement.

I can see my own breath, staring at my shoes as I walk. In the distance, I hear talking and look up. I see a group of maybe three men leaning on a wall. Judging by the matching clothing and their demeanor, I can tell who they are.  I've walked into a bad side of town.

Most people would get spooked, overreact and turn around, but I couldn't really care less.  I'll walk right pass them. If they want to do something, they will and it'll be the last mistake they make. If they don't, then the world keeps turning and nothing is gained or lost.  I don't really care either way.

As I walk pass them, they hush up real quick and stare at me like they didn't want their business being heard. I feel their eyes on me as I keep walking, then hear their footprints start following.

Stupid. Stupid f*****g thugs...

I wait behind the wall as I turn the corner and check for cameras or witnesses, smirking when I see none.  I hear their footsteps coming closer and closer. Then, at the perfect moment, I step forward and sink the knife into one of their stomachs.

I see the man's eyes widen and my grin grows, a demented look in my own eyes when I feel that warm blood flowing onto my hand.  I yank it out and stab him again.  The man drops to the ground in pain, blood flowing through his fingertips as he holds the wound.

The other two seem to shake themselves out of shock, as if they didn't expect this.  They aren't the sharpest tools in the shed that's for sure.  The one guy comes at me with a knife and I easily shove him face first into the brick wall, barely getting cut as he swings his knife wildly.

I wince when I feel a hard object hit the side of my head and whip around to see the third m**********r with a hilt of an axe or something in his hands.  Through the throbbing headache, I grab the wooden object as he tries to hit me again and yank it from his hands, throwing it aside and jabbing my knife into his arm.

He grabs my hair with the other hand, trying to hold me in place for the second guy who has gotten up with a mask of crimson from hitting the wall. He tries to stab me, but stabs his buddy when I move at the last second: The idiot.

I laugh almost demonically, the voice joining me in my laughter.  It eggs me on, crying for more blood and pain.  I follow its orders and stab third guy in the back three times, killing him on the third.  I growl when the bloody moron tries to stab me in the leg, feeling the knife cut rather deep through the skin and tissue before I kick him off me and sink my blade into his throat, hissing like an animal in his face.

I see the tears well up in his eyes and it makes me laugh again.  Some men try to appear so hard and tough, like they're big and strong and dangerous. Those are always the cowards in the end.  I've seen more "big, bad thugs" cry when I kill them than innocent women.  It's amusing.

I turn to the remaining man.  The first one I stabbed, he's lying on the ground. Blood bubbling from his lips and the holes in his stomach.  It pools around his body beautifully.  I stand over him, watching the pool grow and grow.

"Get away, you... You freak!" He shouts, blood flying from his mouth. "F****n' freak! Don't come near me!"

"Shouldn't have followed me." I mumble. "Now all your buddies are dead."

"F**k you!" He yells, trying to crawl backwards, but he only collapses after a few feet.  I stalk him like a hawk, bending down to stare at him with my head cocked. "You're a f*****g freak! What horror movie did you walk out of with all those scars?"

Laughter echoes in my skull. 'Oooh, he mentioned your scars... He's going to get it now...'

I stab him in the leg, twisting the knife as he screams.  I cut off the screaming when I cover his mouth.  I feel his teeth sink in, but I don't care.  I pull the knife out and stab it back into his other leg.  I feed off the sheer terror in his eyes, twisting the knife deeper.  The blood coats my hand.

"You're... F*****g insane!" He hisses at me.

'He's right about that.'

"Don't take his side. I am not!" I growl at the voice echoing in my ears.  The man below me looks at me with the strangest expression.

"F*****g psycho!" He screams, "Stop!"

"You're just jealous 'cause they only talk to me." I find myself saying.  Although I have no idea why someone would want a homicidal monster living in their head that puts fucked up images in their eyes, hounds their sleep, and makes them want to kill themselves.

With that note, I stab him in the chest until the blade is in his heart and the hilt is against the skin.  I glare as I pull the blade out, wincing as I become aware of the pain in my body.

My head throbs and blood is running down the side of my face.  My bones ache and muscles hurt.  My leg is just gushing blood through my torn jeans.  I stand and I nearly fall over again because of the wound.  He got me good, f*****g a*****e.

I quickly stumble away from the scene. I know I should to clean up the mess, but I don't have the strength.  I feel as though I'll pass out any second and I need to get as far as I can from them.  I make it about four blocks and into an alley before I hit the ground and my world goes black.


-Rema-

Hands grip my arms so tight I feel bruises starting under the skin.  The much bigger man shakes me, his face right up to mine and breath smelling like vodka.

"You f*****g b***h! Tell me where he is! Tell me!" A palm connects with my face, knocking me on the floor. "You were always a w***e.  I don't know why he ever took you in! Where is he?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I shout, tears hot against my cheeks. "Get out!"

Two years and my past still haunts me.  I can't run from it.  He's dead in the ground, only bones, but his ghost follows me in the form of his friends.

"Don't play dumb! I know you did something to him!  What? Did you kill him in his sleep like the little b***h you are? Did you get that n****r to take him out? Poison his food?" He kicks me, grabbing my hair and yanking me back to my feet. "I told him not to trust you! Some b*****s just don't learn no matter how hard you hit them!"

The flashbacks come.  Hands grabbing me, throwing me, pinning me to the bed. They cover my mouth. Words of hatred and insult ring in my ears. I'm a b***h. I'm useless.  It's all I'll ever be.  I'll never learn. I couldn't tell anyone; nobody believes a liar.

Not again. Not ever again!

He shoves me into the table, my ribs ache. My hand grabs the scissors and I spin around and shove them into his stomach.  Shock flashes over his face, replacing the rage. Blood drips down his chin and I quickly repeat the process, then he drops to the ground. 

Next thing I know I'm stabbing and stabbing.  He's long dead, but I can't stop. Tears of pain and anger falling and mixing with the blood as I relentlessly stick the scissors in over and over.  I thank the gods Kacia isn't home...

When I come to, I call Zekk.

"What happened? How'd he get in?" He panics at the state of the house and my bruises. "Did he hurt you?"

"He was a friend of... His..." I can't even speak his name. "I opened the door when he knocked and he just attacked me..."

"You okay?" He asks, his hand resting on my shoulder gently.

"Yeah... I just... Freaked out.. Too familiar..."

Never again.  I made a promise to myself that I'd never let some a*****e do that to me ever, ever again.  I got sick of lying on the ground, being stepped on.  I was sick of being helpless and I will never allow myself to be that again.

"It's okay now... I'll deal with this." He exhales loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When's Kacia coming home?"

"Not until later, maybe even tomorrow..." I tell him.

He nods, "It shouldn't take too long... Don't open your door without checking the peephole next time..."

"Yeah..." I agree in a quiet voice. "I gotta take a shower..."

"Give me the clothes you're wearing too..." He says as I walk to the bathroom.

I can't stop shedding blood...
But I can't say I regret it this time.

Author's Note

This chapter contains graphic descriptions of murder, violence and mild gore, mentions of physical abuse and domestic violence towards women, offensive language, brief mentions of self-injury and suicidal idealization, and themes that may disturb or upset readers.

Poor Rema. *sad face*
And welp, Frey, you done fucked up and got yourself hurt...

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A wild and blood chapter. I liked her personal thoughts and actions. You have create a tale of mystery and blood. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Sinbulvinter]

Thanks. I rather like Rema as well, she thinks a lot like I do and I think I unconsciously put myself in her. Thanks for reading.

[Coyote Poetry]

You did well. A amazing tale and you are welcome.