red paints my eyes. blades are seeping through my blood. the rage inside me deepens. I dig my nails into my skin. Down my arms, into my skull, dragging them down my neck.
the pain takes away the sight of Him on the ground, bullet holes seeping from his throat, his head, his chest. but it does not take away the anger. it does not take away his hatred for the man who forced me to fear the dark.
the anger does not subside when I sleep back into hell. it flares, and my dreams are haunted with death.
