Karma

Victim 5

"What the fuck did you just do?!" I screamed to the person in front of me, pushing him away. My hands were still tingling and my mind still reeling from what had happened. What the hell? My eyes pierced through his own, trying to find something I could latch onto. Something I could use. But I came up blank, and that only made a weird feeling bubble in my veins.

I wanted to scream.

To shout.

To feel something.

Something other than the fact that I wanted to rip this guy's head off just because he'd shown me something I didn't wish to see - to get revenge on him because of that reason. Fuck, as much as I wanted to rip his head off, I couldn't. Even if he was merely a victim, he held answers that I didn't even know existed.

He closed his eyes, before he slipped down the tree and sat on the wet ground. His beer can was laying on the floor discarded and he took a longing look at it, before letting out a breath and smiling lightly at me with apologetic eyes.

I groaned and sat down on the opposite side of the tree. I leant my head back and let the rain droplets drip down my face and cool my back.

"P-please don't..."

"It's all your fault."

I balled my hands up into fists and before I knew what was happening, I was punching the life out of the tree opposite me. One punch, two punch, three punch and crack. It fell to the ground, but I still didn't feel satisfied.

I let out a growl, before taking off.

I was running down the narrow alleys of the city searching for someone, something. I was always so collected, yet now? Not a chance.

A weak connection formed with someone nearby and I let a grin slip onto my face. My fingers tingled a little and I couldn't stop moving.

I ran and ran, looking for them.

And then I did.

They were walking down the road, a massive pair of headphones around their head and wearing jeans that were baggier than my Grandmother's skin.

I inwardly snorted. I didn't have a Grandmother.

I walked out of the alley I was in, grabbed their wet shirt with my hand and pulled them back into the alley. They didn't look startled at all and their eyes were all droopy like he had no clue what was happening. Their dark soul called out for me.

Andrew Wilkinson. Age, twenty three.

I was in the middle of some kind of hospital. Not only could I see that I was, the smell of it attacked my nose. That smell. The smell of antiseptics and sorrow. Ew.

It was pitch black, the only light visible was being emitted by the moon. There were some sounds coming to my left and I saw the guy I'd cornered in front of me.

He had the same headphones on his head and was bobbing his head to some track.

In his hand was a backpack and a crowbar was to the left of some glass box filled with cash. I looked to the sign behind him. It read: 'St Peters Children's House, home for all. Donations welcome.' I was in a hospital for children and, from the look of things, this guy was robbing from the donations box.

Sick fuck.

Just as I saw that, he slammed the crow bar into the glass, making a splintering sound echo through the room and the glass shatter into tiny little pieces.

I cut the vision short and felt blue swirl with black. The need for his soul rising. My sharp teeth coming through. I grinned at the ground, before looking up into his clouded eyes. I pushed my nails into my palms.

"Alright babe?" He slurred. He had a slight American accent so I could only assume he was on holiday here.

"Fine," I said. I gritted my back teeth before slamming my fist into his face.

A grin formed onto his lips, "feisty," he said, before clamping his teeth together. I frowned. I swear, he was half asleep.

I shook my head, bringing him forward so that my lips were next to his ear, much like the dude had done not moments ago.

"P-please don't..."

"It's all your fault."

I growled, forgetting what I was about to say and jammed my fist into his stomach. His back hit the wall behind him and he doubled over. "Hey... That wasn't nice," he managed to gasp out.

"I'm not 'nice'," I said. I punched him again in the face, causing his head to jerk up and slam against the wall like his back had.

He narrowed his eyes, before putting his fists in front of his face and aiming a punch at me, missing by about ten feet.

I smirked at him, punching him again in the nose.

His head went back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, but he hadn't dropped yet. So I punched him again and again and again. His body dropped to the floor, yet I couldn't seem to stop. Not even when his body went limp completely and his stupid attempts in trying to get me to stop frazzled out.

I couldn't stop it. The power I had controlled me. I didn't feel weak anymore. Not like he had made me feel, and it felt fucking great.

Blood was splattered all over the alley and on my knuckles, yet I shouted and slammed my fist again. And again. And-

Someone tugged at my arms, pulling me away from them. But I couldn't stop. All I could see was red - literally.

And the further away I was being pulled from them, the redder things became.

"P-please don't..."

"It's all your fault."

Some sort of scream escaped my lips and I fought my way out of whoever was holding me back. But when I did, I couldn't seem to find my legs and I was suddenly exhausted.

Why? I had no fucking clue.

But my legs buckled from underneath me and my body hit the wet pavement and I couldn't seem to get back up. So I laid there for what felt like an eternity, until my eyes felt heavy and I couldn't stay awake any longer.

And then realisation hit.

______________________________

another update. yay. go me. whoop. very short. but an update nonetheless.

vote and comment if you enjoyed.. thanks for reading.