WARNINGS: explicit gore, death, and insanity
The sensation of blood running down my face was not an alien one. The oddly
warm, viscous liquid was familiar, almost....comforting to feel on my skin. I leaned back against a cold wall; I could feel the frosty surface through the thin fabric of my shirt. I ignored it as best I could. Its low temperatures would only serve as a respite, for which I had no desire. I would much rather admire my handiwork, which was spread all across my floor and body. I suppose that should have disturbed me, but it didn't. And I was perfectly fine with that.
It was a thing of beauty, really. At least to me. People I'd once called “friends....” they now decorated my room and my self simultaneously. A familiar blue striped scarf belonging to some jackass I used to tolerate, the sunglasses of some weird kid with red eyes, a headband. They're all now in a better place. You're welcome, jackass, sorry about your scarf.
Mm, it felt nice. Tufts of dark hair with lighter blonde interspersed scattered the ground and made almost a ring around the bodies, like they were some sort of sacrifice. The best part....the very best part was their blood...so warm and so....alive. It's so alive and I can feel it wanting to make someone else alive...but it can't! It can't, no matter how hard it wants to, because I have given it no ways to stay inside those beautiful, dismembered bodies. It runs gleefully around as it leaks out of their limbs, then once it realizes it has no way to reverse that journey, it stagnates. Total....stagnation. From the lack of motion despair is what I feel. I think it's almost dry now on the floor, but that which has landed on my skin and face is still wonderful and warm and so amazingly fluid. It feels my liquid life trapped beneath my own damn skin and knows it is among friends. That over my heart is doing its best to defy gravity and stay there, stay over that warm mass and just stay with the life as long as it can.
I lifted a heavy hand from the wall to shakily dab into the stuff dripping down my front. It was red in some places and purple in others. I touched my saturated fingers to my lips, purring in satisfaction at the sensation. My index finger dragged, leaving behind an oddly colored streak on my flaccid lips. My eyes slid shut and my head rolled back against the wall as my decorated hand moved down my neck, painting my jagged collarbone before continuing is decent downwards, pulling more of the mixed blood together down to my navel. I lacked a definitive musculature for it to fill. The stream I'd been pulling fanned out into a broken river just above my pants, leaking downwards. I savored the sensation for a moment, then plunged my hand further downwards, slipping by the loose waistbands of my baggy pants with ease. The life-blood on my hand was slightly sticky, but it became loose and free once more after I spread it further over my body. A soft sigh passed my moist lips as the blood of my friends coated my thighs.
Sated, I returned both my hands to the wall behind my back. It felt much colder against my right hand, my beautiful, crowned, my bloody hand, which was suddenly much too warm. I gasped at the change, everything was going so well, nothing had interrupted me, but now? A fucking temperature change was all it took?!
Unacceptable.
Simply unacceptable. I fought the cold as best I could in my hand, but I'd let my guard down, gotten too damn soft in my pleasure. It was about to cost me dearly.
Chills broke through to splinter across my entire body. I arched against the spikes, grabbing at the wall with broken, jagged fingernails and squeezing my eyes shut as if self-induced blackness would drive away the oncoming clarity for which I had no desire.
It didn't work.
My eyes flew open unbidden to flicker around uselessly. Chills from the stone laced through to my stomach, the core of my enjoyment, erasing all warmth and wonderful previously gathered there. I dared to look down at my pale skin, hoping that being able to see evidence of what I could no longer feel would remind me of its presence...its almighty, undeniable presence....which was no longer there. The damn cold had taken my blood away! It had no right, IT HAD NO RIGHT to do that but it went ahead and did so anyway without even asking my permission....
An anguished whimper echoed in the room as I watched my friends fade away...that asshole's striped scarf, the leg of a lovely lady, a red eyeball...they were all leaving me...I fell to my knees in a puddle of their blood, which should have been warm and lovely but instead was cold and hard, much more like the floor than it should have been. I pawed around, searching for something to hold on to, a foot, a nose, an arm, anything would do but there was none to be found. All I could do was watch hopelessly as hair faded from my view, as exposed muscle and bone vanished as if they never existed at all, leaving no trace whatsoever of what beautiful miracles I had so proudly accomplished.
It wasn't until the last bloodied bone faded from sight that it hit me. All my hard work....gone. Gone, just like that, so easily, effortlessly rendered insignificant because of what?? Because of something as menial as a fucking slab of stone that was just the right temperature to....to distract me. My knees and palms held me over where one desecrated figure had lain only a moment ago....but not anymore.
I shouted angrily at no one, saying nothing. Just the sound of my loss, my loss which would haunt me for days....how could I have let them go so easily? I cared for them so much, I'd told myself I'd keep them safe, I told THEM I'd keep them safe and now this stone obstacle made me break my promises. Nothing could comfort me at this point. If lost all the blood and the euphoria brought by the view of my work was obviously unattainable. Tears fell down my face, I think, but their warm salinity wasn't enough to replace the feel of blood...the heat, the life, the freedom....I needed it. I needed to feel it across my skin because I could never feel it in my soul, and its absence left me so naked and so alone it was painful.
I clambered slowly to my feet. The wall needed to pay for what it had done to me. I knew little else but that at that point. So, I turned and I punched the wall. I punched it as hard as I could, reveling in the tearing of my skin and the bruising of my bones. My fingers screeched happily as I unfurled them from a fist. I studied my knuckles, my heart speeding up as my own light purple blood leaked from the new abrasions. A soft chuckle passed from my teeth, which were revealed as my lips drew back into a maniacal grin. Quickly, I spread my bleeding knuckles to my opposite wrist, allowing skin to drag across skin slowly, sensually....it was a thin film...not nearly thick enough, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
It wasn't enough. The wall had taken away my first blood with its frigidity, and now, it was going to give me back my second with its unrelenting stony face.
I slammed my fist back into the wall, then again, laughing as the small bones in my knuckles snapped against the rock. I felt no pain...only glee. A strangled sound that was something between a hum and a moan fell out of me as blood flowed freely from my hand, onto my wrist, to my other hand, to my body....moistened fingers slid up my ribs as I sucked in a breath, inhaling so deeply the bones stuck out underneath my pale skin.
Both hands flew up to tangle in my hair, yanking out small clumps, dropping them to the floor as warmth gradually leaked out across my scalp. My shoulders hunched up, trapping heat near and around my ears. I couldn't help but shiver in delight as that warmth....that delicious warmth was brought back to me. I loved it with every nerve I possessed. My fingernails touched the blood leaking from my head, caressing it, urging it to fall from my hair to touch the skin of my face they dug into. One hand scraped around my eye while the other clawed at my cheekbone and jawline. All over my face the searched, they scrabbled, finding purchase where purchase was to be found, and clawing it out, blood mixing with what few tears I had shed.
Finally.
Finally, it was back. I bled enough from the face that it flowed freely down my face, leaving trails of purple heat. It fell to my neck, to my collar, to my chest....my own fluid felt just as nice as that of my friends as it thinly covered my body once more. I aided it in some places it was not able to reach on its own; my trembling, broken fingers anointed themselves in it and drew jagged lines all down my stomach, all across my back and down my arms. I'd shed my shirt in favor of giving my blood more area to fill with its allure, more skin to permeate from the outside as well as within.
Once I was satisfactorily bathed, I perched in the middle of my floor and crossed my legs beneath me. My eyes slid shut once more as I retreated into my mind, feeling and seeing naught but the hot, comforting liquid in which I was saturated. A streak across my cheek overflowed and cast a drop to the floor. Unseeing, my finger shot down to pick it up from the stone ground and spread it over my lower lip.
The satisfaction I felt was bordering on inhumane. Covered in such homely warmth that couldn't be taken away by any wall....no matter how relentless it chose to be. I bared my sharp teeth in a frantically satisfied grin once more, feeling blood move to fill the cracks in my lip as it stretched.
I am home, my darling, and neither of us are going anywhere.
-Jessica
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