Innocence can not save you
by Mikaela S.
I couldn't move. My body engulfed in pain. I could hear the sound of cars nearby and it seemed dark, as if it were night time. It took all of my strength to force my eyes open. To be able to see the mangled twisted and torn body before me, my body before me. I moved my hand to the source of my pain. I felt the warm sensation of blood trickle through my fingers. The dirt had turned to mud, mixing with my blood to create a sickly brown, which covered half of me.
It was like I was buried in a rush, as if he had something better to do.
It was happening now, my breath escaping in sharp gasps and my chest burning and twisting from the inside. I closed my eyes, waited. It was coming, soon I would be at peace. Soon. And when I found myself unable to take another pain filled breath, I knew. It was over. Finally over.
And all though life had left me and hope was dead, revenge seeped through my body. It became my heart, my soul and my blood. I found myself craving human flesh. His flesh.
He was just sitting there. Washing the blood from his body, enjoying the mud colored water around him. The only thing left of my existence. I saw the knife, the freshly sharpened blade encrusted with drying blood and dirt. I knew what I had to do. And like that, I disappeared. Vanished into the steaming air around me.
He must have seen something, because at that moment he left the tub to inspect where I had been standing. And as he walked passed the mirror, his eyes filled with terror, his body let out a horror filled scream and dropped to the floor as limp and as lifeless and the dirt on the floor.
For he had seen me in the mirror, standing straight and proud behind him, with the same blood encrusted knife in my hands.
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