Vengeance
Author's note: This crap gets dark. So jus-um... just watch out for that.
He put his hand in the bathroom sink and let the water heat and redden it. Water scalding as his blood. Their faces and words ran around track fields in his head. His hand begun to shake. Without warning the mirror filled with a depraved alien visage. Its fists knotted and shaking. Temples pulsating in lunatic aggression. Hate in its core like a beating lump of obsidian. Suddenly, the memories faded and the creature disappeared. His muscles slacked and he breathed in deeply and cooled the water to splash his face and push the anger away. He spared a moment to dry himself before stepping out of the fluorescent refuge and into the pitch blackness.
With outstretched hands and shuffling feet he made his way blind to his bed and collapsed on it. He was tired. It was late and already the weighted sunshine of tomorrow had begun to press on him. He wanted peace there in the quiet, but coveted rest would not come. Instead his mind wandered through strange and crowded avenues, stopping to observe random memories near and far. Though he attempted to avoid it the contemptible present inevitably circled back on him. Rage bubbled up again like filth from a clogged drain. He focused on their words and intentions and faces. He could feel the part of himself that knew the better angels become mute as the base numbness of malice took over. Pollution sweet if only in the millisecond.
He found himself back in the halls and walked the tiles as he'd done so many times before. But the fear and insecurity were gone, replaced by mad ambition and lust for punishment. He saw them as demons appear before him, cackling and preying upon the weak. A large one who led the others approached to hurt him. There would be no running or begging for mercy. Instead he brought his club to its face and beat it in. Again and again and again. Blood poured out over the width of the hall. The intimidator lay smashed and unrecognizable. The horrid audience ceased their mocking and stared with mortal terror in themselves. He gritted his whole mouth and pointed his instrument at them. They fled but he seemed to grow larger and his arm longer and one by one he caught each of them and slew them. He relished like a feasting carnivore in the sentencing and reckoning of the wicked. Righteous and white. Turning the pain against them and crushing them with it.
But he knew how it would end. He had seen it all before. There would be no victory or satisfaction to enjoy with the destruction of the oppressors. He looked around at the appalled expressions of innocents seeing what he'd accomplished. Parents drenched in utter violation. One among them was the weeping face of his true and pure friend, glowing with a light that shamed him entire. He had stolen from them. From himself. When the men came to take him they found only a despicable beast spewing bile on all fours and cursing life. Pain enduring in all its senses. Tasting the metallic bitterness of the barrel on its tongue. Destroying itself.
He sat on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. "Oh God", he whispered. "Oh God."
He put his hand in the bathroom sink and let the water heat and redden it. Water scalding as his blood. Their faces and words ran around track fields in his head. His hand begun to shake. Without warning the mirror filled with a depraved alien visage. Its fists knotted and shaking. Temples pulsating in lunatic aggression. Hate in its core like a beating lump of obsidian. Suddenly, the memories faded and the creature disappeared. His muscles slacked and he breathed in deeply and cooled the water to splash his face and push the anger away. He spared a moment to dry himself before stepping out of the fluorescent refuge and into the pitch blackness.
With outstretched hands and shuffling feet he made his way blind to his bed and collapsed on it. He was tired. It was late and already the weighted sunshine of tomorrow had begun to press on him. He wanted peace there in the quiet, but coveted rest would not come. Instead his mind wandered through strange and crowded avenues, stopping to observe random memories near and far. Though he attempted to avoid it the contemptible present inevitably circled back on him. Rage bubbled up again like filth from a clogged drain. He focused on their words and intentions and faces. He could feel the part of himself that knew the better angels become mute as the base numbness of malice took over. Pollution sweet if only in the millisecond.
He found himself back in the halls and walked the tiles as he'd done so many times before. But the fear and insecurity were gone, replaced by mad ambition and lust for punishment. He saw them as demons appear before him, cackling and preying upon the weak. A large one who led the others approached to hurt him. There would be no running or begging for mercy. Instead he brought his club to its face and beat it in. Again and again and again. Blood poured out over the width of the hall. The intimidator lay smashed and unrecognizable. The horrid audience ceased their mocking and stared with mortal terror in themselves. He gritted his whole mouth and pointed his instrument at them. They fled but he seemed to grow larger and his arm longer and one by one he caught each of them and slew them. He relished like a feasting carnivore in the sentencing and reckoning of the wicked. Righteous and white. Turning the pain against them and crushing them with it.
But he knew how it would end. He had seen it all before. There would be no victory or satisfaction to enjoy with the destruction of the oppressors. He looked around at the appalled expressions of innocents seeing what he'd accomplished. Parents drenched in utter violation. One among them was the weeping face of his true and pure friend, glowing with a light that shamed him entire. He had stolen from them. From himself. When the men came to take him they found only a despicable beast spewing bile on all fours and cursing life. Pain enduring in all its senses. Tasting the metallic bitterness of the barrel on its tongue. Destroying itself.
He sat on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. "Oh God", he whispered. "Oh God."
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