A Killer In Me Is A Killer In You
Rideau De Furie Rouge
Rage builds up, and he unlocks the door again, stumbling out of the cubicle. No one is in here, great.
The rage, hatred and anger release itself from Frank’s body, and his fist collides with the mirror, shattering it into a million shards.
His fist stings, and warm, dark red blood trickles down his hand, wrist and arm, but he doesn’t notice.
All he sees and feels is a curtain of red rage.
Blinded by it, he kicks a toilet cubicle door out of its frame. Turning around again, he tears the taps off the sinks.
Water now splashing everywhere, he’s still not satisfied. He grabs the metal plate that has the sinks in it, and showing an unbelievable, monster-like strength, he pulls it off and throws it again the cubicles. Water gushes out of the hole in the wall.
He grunts, takes a step towards the toilets, but slips and lands right in the broken mirrors.
“Fuck,” He pants, as he pretty much slices his own skin open. His voice is unnaturally deep and raw.
Suddenly, exhaustion washes over him, as part of his humanity returns because of the pain.
He sighs and drops his head back on the ground, missing another sharp mirror piece with only an inch.
The door bursts open. “FRANK!” Gerard yells, terrified. Running over to his best friend, he shrieks, “What the fuck happened?”
“Close the door, block it,” Frank says, barely audible. Gerard shoots up again, and drags the metal counter to barricade the door. Returning, his eyes speak of worry and anguish.
“What happened?” He asks again. Frank’s eyes move from the ceiling to Gerard’s.
“Told you. They drive me insane,” Frank’s voice stays quiet, and Gerard has to try his hardest to understand.
“What does?” Gerard starts to try and pull Frank out of the mess of mirror, blood and water. It’s not working, it almost feels like Frank is struggling to stay there, even though he’s just a limp of bleeding flesh, not moving at all, powerless.
“Women. Everything about them.”
The rage, hatred and anger release itself from Frank’s body, and his fist collides with the mirror, shattering it into a million shards.
His fist stings, and warm, dark red blood trickles down his hand, wrist and arm, but he doesn’t notice.
All he sees and feels is a curtain of red rage.
Blinded by it, he kicks a toilet cubicle door out of its frame. Turning around again, he tears the taps off the sinks.
Water now splashing everywhere, he’s still not satisfied. He grabs the metal plate that has the sinks in it, and showing an unbelievable, monster-like strength, he pulls it off and throws it again the cubicles. Water gushes out of the hole in the wall.
He grunts, takes a step towards the toilets, but slips and lands right in the broken mirrors.
“Fuck,” He pants, as he pretty much slices his own skin open. His voice is unnaturally deep and raw.
Suddenly, exhaustion washes over him, as part of his humanity returns because of the pain.
He sighs and drops his head back on the ground, missing another sharp mirror piece with only an inch.
The door bursts open. “FRANK!” Gerard yells, terrified. Running over to his best friend, he shrieks, “What the fuck happened?”
“Close the door, block it,” Frank says, barely audible. Gerard shoots up again, and drags the metal counter to barricade the door. Returning, his eyes speak of worry and anguish.
“What happened?” He asks again. Frank’s eyes move from the ceiling to Gerard’s.
“Told you. They drive me insane,” Frank’s voice stays quiet, and Gerard has to try his hardest to understand.
“What does?” Gerard starts to try and pull Frank out of the mess of mirror, blood and water. It’s not working, it almost feels like Frank is struggling to stay there, even though he’s just a limp of bleeding flesh, not moving at all, powerless.
“Women. Everything about them.”