Filth

June 16, 2018

 

Here I stand, letting the drops hit me, my shirt soaked red. My hands trembling, my heart thumping. Why can’t I move? I see his eyes looking back, the fear. They’re pleading for my help. His eyes turning red with every blink. I can’t help him. I can’t move.

 

I feel his pain, I feel his hands on my neck. “Tighter. TIGHTER”, I beg to no end. But I feel his grip weakening, red shadowing the sun. I hear my fear chuckling, her vile teeth, bloody with his flesh. I see lust in her eyes. I see the enamor that’s gotten to him. That’s gotten to this. My socks soaked in red, the floor damp with him.

 

I see him once again, red no more. Only white. The room starts spinning, her cancerous laughter catches my hands as I fall to the ground. Here I am, soaked, looking at him, looking into white. The void stares back. The whites in his eyes contrasted by the sweet symphony of regret ringing in my ears as I fade into the red.

 

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