Hands Of A Beast

The Droplets of water hit the floor as I take a sharp corner, pitter patter pitter patter. My heart pounds louder than my feet hitting the ground as if I'm trying to fly with each step. One glanced behind me, and those damn creatures of hell still tail me. I managed to find a ladder and get to a platform on a building, I kicked down the freaks that tried to climb up. I shattered through a sliding door to get inside an apartment,. I rushed into the kitchen and pulled out a small steak knife. My mark finally visible to others, I place the blade onto my left hand. The first cut is unbearable but each cut and stab get easier but it's still there. Drips of blood becomes an orchestra for my pitiful ears, rain slams the ground as it turns red with the sacrifice of my hand. "Useless effing useless" my hoarse voice groans as I chuck the knife across the kitchen out the shattered window. The rain of red turns pinkish as my tears mixes with my blood making a secret affair with one another.

Eventually I wake up in the pool of liquids, some unknown, some forgotten memories. To think I trusted him, to think I could trust any of these damn monstrosities and prurient sluts! As I stand and straighten myself up I survey my surroundings. The apartment is torn. Most of the wallpaper is tattered. The living room is grey without a hint of life. I look over to the t.v. and find a white paper sign on the screen. Gently my hand takes the paper by its throat for me to read. Nothing is on it other than random messages, 'Why, Dont, Not Me, I Dont Deserve This, I'll Change'. All of it was just pointless begging. The back side however is filled with sorry's and tally marks, counting days? Months? I'm not sure. Oddly as I checked one of the cabinets there was a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I poured it onto my hand, as once again it goes through more torture. The sting was only there for a short while. I wrap up the wound and the marks with tissues and tape. I hesitantly look out the sliding door. Clear other than puddles from the storm. My right hand freezes as it kisses the bars of the ladder as I climb down.