Categories > Original > Horror
Don't read
0 reviewsBased on characters, band members, personal horrors. I needed to write this and needed a place to post it. Read or don't, this isn't even for you.
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Anger. Rage. Fury. Hate. All of this rushes through my head as I rush through the woods. I had to get out of there. It started as a walk in the dark, but the anger didn't go away. Not that I fully expected it to. Not that I expected it to at all. When I get angry... well it gets worse the more I think about it. It could be something so stupid as something not working fast enough. Not working right. Like me. Maybe I see all of my own horrible traits in the devices I'm so quick to throw against the wall. That's something that never changed when I did. It just made me angrier. I don't even remember being turned and I hate that I blame him, but I do. I blame him for the way I am. This is his fault. He turned me. He changed my life forever. What I hate most of all though, is that I don't blame him. It'd be so easy to. It'd solve my problems. Yet again, something isn't my fault. It's always someone else. I say I blame him. This too, is a lie. These things happen. Not to everyone, mind you. So I blame him for making my life better. Giving me something to live for although I stopped living long ago. Yet it's not him whose house I'm rushing to. I can't feel my feet. The air is pumping through my lungs at break-neck speeds and the trees all blur together. Finally I reach it. I barely even notice lifting myself up the tree and through the window. I crouch in the darkness, instantly alert. Where is he?
Oh.
I fling myself to the ground, but his hand is already at my neck.
“Why are you in my house?”
I snarl and flip him to the ground.
“You may be newer, but I'm still stronger. I feed directly from the source. You fucking pansy.”
He straightens up, glaring at me in the dim light. “You came here to insult me. How graceful.”
I spit in his face. “When the hell have I ever been graceful? I'm only close to that when I'm picking my prey. And you're in luck. Tonight it's you.”
“Aw, did your widdle friend piss you off again?”
I lunge for his throat, only to be deflected easily. I bare my teeth at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I'm talking about. That's why you came here, isn't it? You had another fight with him and decided to take your mind off it by picking a fight. Is that right, little one?”
“WE DON'T FIGHT!” I scream, pinning him to the floor. He laughs up at me and pushes me off. I'm not even trying. I'm too angry to see straight.
“Then what would you call all those times you've gotten pissy at him for no reason? Hmm?”
“That's none of your business. How... how do you know this?”
“I'm in your mind. It's not difficult to know anyway. Everyone sees how you treat him.”
“I treat him just fine. Mind your own damn business.”
“You made it my business when you snuck in through the window. Now answer me something. Why?”
“Why what?” I growl.
“Why are you so intent on hating me? Do I remind you a little too much of yourself? Only more perfect, of course.”
“THAT. That's why I hate you, you arrogant fucking prick.”
“Or maybe you're just jealous.” He says, pointing to a framed picture of them smiling. “Hell, you can't even keep a best friend the way I can.”
With that, I fling myself at him with all I have. He falls to the ground, shrieking in surprise. I slam his head against the floor, which dents the wood. He tries to push me off but I dig my knees into his hips, keeping him held down. He stares up at me for a moment, a pleading look flashing into his eyes.
“Why do you get the perfect life? You're just as fucked up as I am. Yet you're perfect. Perfect husband, perfect best friend, perfect career. And what do I have? Nothing. They all prefer YOU. Even after you nearly killed your best friend. Even after all those fights you picked with me. And your bathroom mirror. Yet I get blamed for everything. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I hate everything you are, everything you can be, everything. And it's time for you to get out of my life.”
He's got tears in his eyes now. He isn't saying anything and I don't know how he's reacting to what I'm saying. All I see is the tears. He looks almost calm. Calm. This isn't what I wanted.
“YOU CAN'T EVEN FUCKING BEG FOR YOUR LIFE RIGHT” I scream, shaking him so much his long teeth rattle in his mouth.
“You want me to beg? How's this for begging, you self-centered bitch? Leave me and my family the fuck alone.”
“F-Family?” I choke out. Fuck, I will NOT let him see me cry.
“Yes. Family. People who love you. Not that you know what that is.”
Blood. Lots of it. I blacked out for a second and when the red fades from my eyes, I notice I'm shaking him harder. Choking him. He doesn't have air so it doesn't matter, but I can finally see the fear in his eyes. I push down so hard on his arms that they snap and headbutt him as hard as I can. The smell of blood fills the room but for once, I have no interest in it. I stand and kick him repeatedly. There's the pain. He's whining and curling into a ball. I'm using every ounce of force possible and he's finally feeling something. Probably the first time in months. He's sobbing freely now, his arms at awkward angles. I kick sideways, shattering his kneecap. He cries out and curls even further inside himself. He can't hide. I reach down and stare him in the eyes before crushing them with my thumbs. Those wide eyed browns would never blink innocently again. He began gurgling on his own blood as it pours into his mouth. Now it's starting to become tempting. I ignore it. He's still writhing, throwing out every profanity known to man. So I rip his throat out with my teeth. I think that's part of his larynx I just spit out. He's twitching now, no more thrashing. He begins to become more still by the second, his blood soaking the carpet. I hear footsteps running up the stairs so I quickly jump out the window.
Running.
I won't stop running.
Oh.
I fling myself to the ground, but his hand is already at my neck.
“Why are you in my house?”
I snarl and flip him to the ground.
“You may be newer, but I'm still stronger. I feed directly from the source. You fucking pansy.”
He straightens up, glaring at me in the dim light. “You came here to insult me. How graceful.”
I spit in his face. “When the hell have I ever been graceful? I'm only close to that when I'm picking my prey. And you're in luck. Tonight it's you.”
“Aw, did your widdle friend piss you off again?”
I lunge for his throat, only to be deflected easily. I bare my teeth at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I'm talking about. That's why you came here, isn't it? You had another fight with him and decided to take your mind off it by picking a fight. Is that right, little one?”
“WE DON'T FIGHT!” I scream, pinning him to the floor. He laughs up at me and pushes me off. I'm not even trying. I'm too angry to see straight.
“Then what would you call all those times you've gotten pissy at him for no reason? Hmm?”
“That's none of your business. How... how do you know this?”
“I'm in your mind. It's not difficult to know anyway. Everyone sees how you treat him.”
“I treat him just fine. Mind your own damn business.”
“You made it my business when you snuck in through the window. Now answer me something. Why?”
“Why what?” I growl.
“Why are you so intent on hating me? Do I remind you a little too much of yourself? Only more perfect, of course.”
“THAT. That's why I hate you, you arrogant fucking prick.”
“Or maybe you're just jealous.” He says, pointing to a framed picture of them smiling. “Hell, you can't even keep a best friend the way I can.”
With that, I fling myself at him with all I have. He falls to the ground, shrieking in surprise. I slam his head against the floor, which dents the wood. He tries to push me off but I dig my knees into his hips, keeping him held down. He stares up at me for a moment, a pleading look flashing into his eyes.
“Why do you get the perfect life? You're just as fucked up as I am. Yet you're perfect. Perfect husband, perfect best friend, perfect career. And what do I have? Nothing. They all prefer YOU. Even after you nearly killed your best friend. Even after all those fights you picked with me. And your bathroom mirror. Yet I get blamed for everything. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I hate everything you are, everything you can be, everything. And it's time for you to get out of my life.”
He's got tears in his eyes now. He isn't saying anything and I don't know how he's reacting to what I'm saying. All I see is the tears. He looks almost calm. Calm. This isn't what I wanted.
“YOU CAN'T EVEN FUCKING BEG FOR YOUR LIFE RIGHT” I scream, shaking him so much his long teeth rattle in his mouth.
“You want me to beg? How's this for begging, you self-centered bitch? Leave me and my family the fuck alone.”
“F-Family?” I choke out. Fuck, I will NOT let him see me cry.
“Yes. Family. People who love you. Not that you know what that is.”
Blood. Lots of it. I blacked out for a second and when the red fades from my eyes, I notice I'm shaking him harder. Choking him. He doesn't have air so it doesn't matter, but I can finally see the fear in his eyes. I push down so hard on his arms that they snap and headbutt him as hard as I can. The smell of blood fills the room but for once, I have no interest in it. I stand and kick him repeatedly. There's the pain. He's whining and curling into a ball. I'm using every ounce of force possible and he's finally feeling something. Probably the first time in months. He's sobbing freely now, his arms at awkward angles. I kick sideways, shattering his kneecap. He cries out and curls even further inside himself. He can't hide. I reach down and stare him in the eyes before crushing them with my thumbs. Those wide eyed browns would never blink innocently again. He began gurgling on his own blood as it pours into his mouth. Now it's starting to become tempting. I ignore it. He's still writhing, throwing out every profanity known to man. So I rip his throat out with my teeth. I think that's part of his larynx I just spit out. He's twitching now, no more thrashing. He begins to become more still by the second, his blood soaking the carpet. I hear footsteps running up the stairs so I quickly jump out the window.
Running.
I won't stop running.
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