No more pretending; chp12-torn apart

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CHAPTER 12- torn apart

The silence is what killed me most. Not the eerie scene of an abandoned town, and as the hot breeze fluttered like a humming bird at my hair. The grit, broken glass and the remains of what used to be civilization crumbled between my toes and bit into the rough soles of my feet.

The scene of the town was distressing, you could see the broken windows and doors and the trails of dried blood left behind from the ‘vaccinated’ dragging people out of their homes, and as they bit in to the flesh you could see the remains of their humanity disappear as the pool of blood grew beneath the corpse with each second. But all that remained of blooded struggles where the faint stains in the soil and finger prints of blood across the wall, where they couldn’t lick it clean.

“don’t look.” He spoke roughly, his head buried in the tattered cloth around his neck that faintly reminded me of a scarf.

I tried to close my eyes but of course, i couldn’t, the sense of death lingered, and the intensive urge to flee boiled at my blood. I swallowed the dry saliva that stuck in the back of my throat, but my eyes widened at the sight of the remains of a corpse; you could see the trail where a group had dragged him out his own house, i could all most hear his screams as they tore him apart with each step as they dragged him to the road, spilling his guts as they went.

All that remained now; was haunting remains of a man, no flesh was left apart from the flaps of leftover rotting skin, stretched across his cold bones, no blood left in his body...

“He died a while ago... i said don’t look...” the fading hoarseness in his voice husked at the end of his words, like it was almost hard for him to look at the broken soul laying beneath his feet.

My scared eyes widened further with the thought; “You helped kill him... didn’t you?” an unbearable unheard screech escaped my lips, as i cried.

...

I don’t know why it is. But when you let emotions get the better of you for a split second, they take over; raking through your body like an angry disease shaking huge sob out my lungs. I could feel the depressing nature of the heavy weight of sadness lie on me, my eyes drooped; reddening  at the corners where the crystal clear tear drops leaked over my pale face. How can such pure crystal clear things come from such a terrible confusing and just plain unclear emotion.

Scrunching my hands into fists, i tore the tears from my face, but no such luck; they were just replaced with more, streaming like an unwanted wave down the side of my face, leaving the hot trail of its salted sadness behind with a sticky path that just made me feel worst with the swollen red eyes and the tightness of my skin that just refused to loosen.

I don’t know whether it’s the same with you, but when i cry, i can never remember exactly what for, what exact time made my emotions overflow. Was it when i saw the body? Was it when i saw the blood dripping of the walls? The dramatic disturbance in the area from all the tragic scenes that took place...?

He interrupted my thoughts with a sigh, and with it, i realised what i had gotten myself into; i am owned by a murderer, a cold blooded killer, a man that killed many more souls and made many more gruesome scenes... but for some reason, with all the things he has done: Taken me away from my family, kidnapped me, hurt me, bit me, drink me and of course haunts me with guilt... not to mention leaving me with the graphic picture of the body in my mind, his grotesque position; the unnatural angle his bones were set at, some body parts were even torn away from his main, and you could see them in the next 10 ft or so...

I mentally cringed at the thought. But i what i don’t get at all, is this man in front of me has the choice to become normal. Like i said before; they can be ‘cured’, all they have to do is resist the urge for blood, for beauty, for immortality and for of course; the thrill of the hunt...

And he more than anyone, being slightly more resistant to the parasites, hasn’t found himself enough to bring him back to his sense, to his most wanted dreams.

To become human.

But it’s not all that easy; once you have the taste for something, you have to have it. Blood for a ‘vaccinated’ is like drugs, once you get in to the vicious cycle for the thirst for blood, it’s hard to get out. It’s more a mental urge and illness that the parasites cause; it almost causes the ‘vaccinated’ more mental pain than it would to kill someone. And suck their blood dry.

Simple to say, but imagine if a family member ‘turned’; your mother, grandpa, even your little baby cousin... imagine them killing people, their moral stability disappears, all that is on their mind is the blood that you carry, intoxicating them with the smell that drives the parasite crazy; sending them in for the kill.

All i know, that with this, i have been torn apart, from my family, from my life, from my emotions; all torn up inside, just like the man before me. However when i say that, i don't know which man i mean, the one dead at my feet, or the one before me; dead inside.

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