The Beginning of the End

     The rain beat upon his tenderized flesh, blossoming aches throughout his body. His blood rushed to the surface of his wounds and adrenaline welled his eyes with tears. The man's lips quivered, bouncing soft apologies that he couldn't even hear over the sound of the agonizing screams around him.

     These screams were once voices filled with joy. They never strayed away from excitement, booming energy nor adolescence; despite having matured over the years that he knew them. Their words always cradled him, even in times when their owners were peeved, he couldn't remember a single occurrence where he didn't hear their love. These voices once comforted him, they once provided him with warmth.

     But as they cried for their split blood, for their mothers whose arms were too far to reach, and for a God with deafened ears to their pleas; he knew that he'll never remember their voices for what they truly were. Instead, it would be their endless bellows that would haunt him, clawing at the walls of his ears and cursing him with a haunting choir that he'll never forget.

     "Help!"

     On and on..

     "Somebody help!"

     And on and on..

     "Please, no.."

     And on and on and on and on...until the last death rattle fizzled out. He waited for those things, those creatures to find him. He listened as they slowly trekked through the muddy path in search for him, cooing for him to come out. Fear had become irrelevant to him at that point, though the anticipation of their arrival twisted his muddled stomach. He had expected for one of show their gruesome face at any moment and prayed that he would soon reunite with his loved ones. But that moment never came.

    Sun rays peaked through the clouds and the rain came to a halt, ushering in more lively footsteps and shouts for life. He didn't respond to them though, unsure if his breath was strong enough to formulate a sentence or if he was being tricked again. It wasn't until his eyes met the ones of a young man close to his age was when he understood that he was no longer in grace danger. Though, the moment he felt their concern touches checking his injuries, his consciousness slipped from him. Not because he was on safe hands, but because his guilt gnawed at every inch of his body until it couldn't take it anymore.

How could he survive and not the others?

Is there any point of surviving if he just only a dead man walking?

Because they might've let him live that night, but it was only for the own enjoyment.

They don't dream at night, so why not destroy the ones of those can?

Author's Note

- a little preview for what's to come!
- thank you for all of the support so far < 3