A Killer In Me Is A Killer In You
Ce Que J'ai Fait (Prologue)
Eyes widen, as the amount of blood increases.
Hatred rises, as the screaming gets louder.
Fear reveals on her face, as the heart gets weaker and weaker.
When it stops, he digs his hand in the wound, looking for something.
Finding it, he rips out the vital organ.
An evil cackle grows in the back of his throat, as her heart looks exactly like he had expected. Ugly.
A loud singing erupts “I wanna see what your insides look like, I bet you’re not fucking pretty on the inside,” as he smacks the heart into her face.
The toxic substances in his body take over, he tries to run. He can’t be found next to her.
Running out of this alley and into one only a couple of metres further, he passes out.
---
He wakes, bathing in his own sweat. Still trembling, he glances at the clock beside him. 6am, he decides to get up. Taking a shower would do him some good. In the bathroom, he stares at his reflection in the mirror. As usual, he looks like he always does the morning after. Tears and sweat mixed on his face and his body. Getting into the shower, he sees the bloodstains on the walls. Images haunt his mind again. He had tried already multiple times to clean it off, but it were hopeless tries and cries. Overcame the fear a while ago, he steps into the shower, lets the water run down his body, trying to wash away the memories taunting him. He knows it’s hopeless, though. He knows they crawl up the drain again, back onto his body, when he’s done showering. Chills creep up his back as he hears the screams pierce the air again. They’re not really there, yet he hears them, tattooed in his brain. He wants to lean back against the wall in defeat, but the blood is there. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep, desperate breath, unwilling to give in to the feeling of guilt. Closing his eyes has never been a good idea after all he has done. Again, the torment in his mind continues, only this time, even worse.
He gets out of the shower, desperately searching for something to soothe his mind.
Hatred rises, as the screaming gets louder.
Fear reveals on her face, as the heart gets weaker and weaker.
When it stops, he digs his hand in the wound, looking for something.
Finding it, he rips out the vital organ.
An evil cackle grows in the back of his throat, as her heart looks exactly like he had expected. Ugly.
A loud singing erupts “I wanna see what your insides look like, I bet you’re not fucking pretty on the inside,” as he smacks the heart into her face.
The toxic substances in his body take over, he tries to run. He can’t be found next to her.
Running out of this alley and into one only a couple of metres further, he passes out.
---
He wakes, bathing in his own sweat. Still trembling, he glances at the clock beside him. 6am, he decides to get up. Taking a shower would do him some good. In the bathroom, he stares at his reflection in the mirror. As usual, he looks like he always does the morning after. Tears and sweat mixed on his face and his body. Getting into the shower, he sees the bloodstains on the walls. Images haunt his mind again. He had tried already multiple times to clean it off, but it were hopeless tries and cries. Overcame the fear a while ago, he steps into the shower, lets the water run down his body, trying to wash away the memories taunting him. He knows it’s hopeless, though. He knows they crawl up the drain again, back onto his body, when he’s done showering. Chills creep up his back as he hears the screams pierce the air again. They’re not really there, yet he hears them, tattooed in his brain. He wants to lean back against the wall in defeat, but the blood is there. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep, desperate breath, unwilling to give in to the feeling of guilt. Closing his eyes has never been a good idea after all he has done. Again, the torment in his mind continues, only this time, even worse.
He gets out of the shower, desperately searching for something to soothe his mind.