Another Monday Morning
Her throat is ragged and weakened by trying to scream. It crushes easily under your heavy hands, and you don't even have to stick around to see the results of the crushed windpipe you administered.
The alley is long and curves into other streets. You dash down them, your legs quick, your blood pumping in your ears and turning the deepening night into a furnace if heartbeats, footsteps, rushing air. You dart behind corners, cross crawlspaces like you were a shadow, like you were the wind, like the day was a wonderful ambrosia that filled you and made you better...
A sound echoes in your ear, loud, very loud and very close. Thunder? It can't be thunder, but it seems...
Then pain rips through your right knee and you crash into a skid on the asphalt. You're stunned, but you hear footsteps behind you. When you try to move, all you feel is a sick weakness, as if something in your knee has shattered and turned to jelly...
"FREEZE, you sick cock, or I SWEAR I'll shoot something more permanent!"
You look over your shoulder and see what looks like a titan bearing down on you. It's a police officer. The person who stood there was a policeman. HE's young, blonde, and his gun is trained on you - he's fumbling for something, but he holds the gun steady, and the burning pain in your knee proves he's willing to use it.
Then, he seems to see you for the first time. "Wait, you're..." he says. And then realization washes over him like a wave. He must have seen the evening news.
"Oh my god," he says, "then she must be..."
Your nerves are strung like electric wire. You're scrambling, clawing to try and get away.
You hear the click that is your death knell.
"Hell's too good for you," he says, and then there is a crack like lightning and your skull is on fire and there's BLOOD and REDNESS and HEAT AND...
And...
... and...
...
The alley is long and curves into other streets. You dash down them, your legs quick, your blood pumping in your ears and turning the deepening night into a furnace if heartbeats, footsteps, rushing air. You dart behind corners, cross crawlspaces like you were a shadow, like you were the wind, like the day was a wonderful ambrosia that filled you and made you better...
A sound echoes in your ear, loud, very loud and very close. Thunder? It can't be thunder, but it seems...
Then pain rips through your right knee and you crash into a skid on the asphalt. You're stunned, but you hear footsteps behind you. When you try to move, all you feel is a sick weakness, as if something in your knee has shattered and turned to jelly...
"FREEZE, you sick cock, or I SWEAR I'll shoot something more permanent!"
You look over your shoulder and see what looks like a titan bearing down on you. It's a police officer. The person who stood there was a policeman. HE's young, blonde, and his gun is trained on you - he's fumbling for something, but he holds the gun steady, and the burning pain in your knee proves he's willing to use it.
Then, he seems to see you for the first time. "Wait, you're..." he says. And then realization washes over him like a wave. He must have seen the evening news.
"Oh my god," he says, "then she must be..."
Your nerves are strung like electric wire. You're scrambling, clawing to try and get away.
You hear the click that is your death knell.
"Hell's too good for you," he says, and then there is a crack like lightning and your skull is on fire and there's BLOOD and REDNESS and HEAT AND...
And...
... and...
...
