𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗗• 𝗦. 𝗞𝗔𝗡𝗚

𝑒 𝑖 𝑔 ℎ 𝑡 𝑒 𝑒 𝑛

-stick to the team

[Y u n  R y u n g]

I could feel my breaths waver. The way it would clutch and release my throat as I run along side 067. The sweat from her forehead drips down to her shirt. Leaving greying marks along the white pigmentation.

I feel it, I can hear him. His face covered in the blood. The way the crinkles in his face grew more and more apparent. The red puddled his face. Tainting the thick substance on the palm of his cheek. Dripping it further and further down his forehead. He smiles, a smile that feels so sick I feel my stomach hurl.

I feel her hands trail to my wrist. Her stained fingers marking me as she pulls at me tighter. I feel her vibrate. The vibration of her chest and hands, her pulse jumping. The bumps along her skin as she watches 331 climb off the base of the bunk, off crom its bars. 101 pulls his neck from behind him. Stabbing then neckline and down his spine for each cord and string that held him up. The lights hurt my eyes. Nothing more than 3 miles away is completely drained from the naked eye. "You asshole!" 101 looks down at 331 bloodied body. Shamelessly smiling at his artwork he had created.

His voice fades from my ears. The sound quiter. 067 pulls me to the centre of the room. Our back pressed together, turning in consistent circles with my blade in hand and a bar in her own. We're even closer , now I can feel the warmth of her body. The warmth slowly seeping thorugh to her skin leaving her a piled mess.

Player 187 runs forcefully into me. His weight pulling me to my side. The metallic bar in his hand being put to my fragile bones. Cracking it more and more. I pull his wrist above his head. My hands feel like they are going to snap, the flare in my palms as his jumper rubs against the dermis and to the pulse point of my wrist.

The Swiss Army knife cuts his skin like butter. His screams fill me with some souyrce of euphoria and achievment. His hands bloodied, as I watch in amusement when he grabs his knee. Needly cradling it to his torso. "Don't go shy on me now." My words slip between my lips. I feel them air out my cheeks as I mutter each word to myself. Yet it's still heard by those around me.

"Fuck you, you psychotic bitch." The boy underneath me cries. The knife in my hands drip, the memories far to faint yet still so clear. I look at 67 with a frown. My waterline overflows as she looks at me with a sense of fear. I don't know If it's because of this moment, and everything happening. Or is it because I just killed two people in front of her.

Either way she pulls me with her. She isn't shaking this time. But this time her grip is tighter on me, I can feel her nails dig into me. Her nail marks trail around my forearm.

We make an abrupt stop in front of 456 and his friends. The slight change in his expression still somehow clear to my vision even as the lights start to flick. "You.... you guys are here." His face leant closer to our own. His voice raspy as he spoke with a deeper tone. "You told us to." My hands gently shrug off her grip. The purple and blue outline along my pulse apparent on my pale skin. The blood around my forearm prickles at the cells of my arms as I stretch my arms further forward.

456 pushes us to the side. I feel the Army Knife sweep in my palm. Pushing it's silver against the base of my cuticles as I pull it in front of me. Holding 067 in a firm hold as we watch the scene unfold at a dangerously slow rate.

The moisture of her hands hits my arm as she pushes me further into the bars, looking back in reassurance. Her eyes flash underneath the lights. The gleam in her eye shortens. Her foot rbought up to 101 side kicking him to the floor.

Not even moments later the same girl had fallen to the ground, being crashed with a bottle. The transparent piece of glass hungover the players head. The sick grin that pulled at his cheeks wrinkling the corners of his hairline as he charges at the others behind me. 218 comes from my shoulder, kicking him back.