Shatter Me: Repair Me [COMPLETED]

(32)

Song: Never Let You Down (ft. Lykke Li)-- Woodkid

Candice Woods:

Sometimes I wondered whether or not I was on the good side of things. 

I knew humanity was dying, so I joined the Unnamed Society. I knew The Reestablishment was done and gone, so why was I still there? You could say it was because the leader was my aunt, or because I felt like I hadn't finished my job. 

I guess that was a good thing though. I couldn't handle blood, gunshots, and wounds. And that was the whole purpose of our society. To draw blood from this Paris guy. Thank god someone else did it, I held in another sigh of relief. 

I was standing along the hallways as a guard,  keeping to myself, and not speaking. I breathed in a big breath, before blowing it out between my teeth. As I did so, my suit rose up, showing off my belly ring. I saw a few male guards blush and look away, before slowly casting their eyes back. I hate it here. I blinked to the right and had to tilt my head down to see Marco's face. He looked up at me and cocked one eyebrow. 

I rocked once on my heels to show I needed to get to the bathroom. He rolled his eyes and rocked three times to say yes. I stamped my boot down on the floor before hurrying off to the bathroom. 

I walked into the tiled room and stepped into a stall, locking the door after me. I then started pulling on my uniform, tugging it down. I walked out, closing the door behind me. Once I saw myself in the bathroom mirror, I cursed. 

Yes, my top was pulled down low enough to cover my belly, but was pulled too low. My bra was sticking out at the top. "Jesus..." I muttered. I washed my hands before pulling the top right into the middle of my torso. 

Crash! My head snapped to the sudden noise. I ran to the door and locked it. My hands started sweating and I grabbed the gun in my pants. My breathing quickened and I felt myself slowly loosing it. Girl, keep it together. You can do this. You can--

Boom! Boom! Pah! Gunshots. I started hyperventilating. Blood Blood BLOOD. Crimson red plagued my vision, an unwanted slideshow of death flashed behind my eyes. I unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway. 

*** (Pause a little before reading this next part. Good.) ***

I almost vomited. A man was lying face down on the floor, one clearly from our society, a knife stuck in his hand and a bloody handprint on the wall. My world spun, until my eyesight focused. 

It's funny how the only thing I'm scared of is this. It's like telling someone they can only eat cake without the frosting. How is that possible? I kill people, and yet I can't bare to look at their remains afterwards. How is that possible?

I put one foot in front of the other until I reached the right turn. I walked around and took a deep breath when I realized it was empty. I pushed my brunette hair over my shoulder and calmed my breathing. I fast-walked to the other side before some women jumped on me. 

It was a mix of dark brown hair before I realized I had to fight back. I grunted before pushing her over on her back. She kicked my chest-- thank the lord I have extra body protection-- and jumped up. She tackled me again and I kicked her shins from beneath her. We both stood up, no pausing for breath, and attacked each other. She punched my jaw and I twisted her wrist. 

"ARGH!" She screamed. I took this moment to push her against the wall and slam her head roughly. She blinked her eyes open and lunged for me. I moved out of the way and climbed onto her back. I gritted my teeth as I dug my nails into her. She threw me down and pointed a gun at my face. My gun. My gun. 

I growled at her and kicked it out of her hand. She managed to shoot my shoulder, to which I screamed. She dug her hand into my fresh wound and squeezed. I screamed even louder. I emanated all of my anger into those final moves. 

I punched her jaw and pushed her back. I head butted her and broke her nose. I kicked her thigh and she screamed again. I picked up the gun and pointed it to her forehead. 

That damned fear! "No," she begged. "Please, I have a fiancé. He'll be devastated if I die." I stopped breathing for a moment. 

"You should have thought of that earlier," I pointed out. 

"I know. I'm sorry. Can we just... restart?" She offered a bloody smile. I almost lowered the gun. She lunged forward. I pulled the trigger. 

And just like that she fell, as if a doll. I stood there shaking, as if I didn't just kill a women. An almost married women. I dropped the gun and put my hand on my mouth. I trembled, amazingly still standing. 

I didn't feel the sense of power some people told me they felt after a fresh kill. No adrenaline through my veins, no anger. Just guilt. Green, ugly, poisoning guilt mixed with my blood. 

I didn't notice a man hold me from behind and tie my wrists behind my back. I didn't notice him stop-- giving me the perfect chance to leave-- and I didn't notice him scream a name. 

I didn't see him drop to the floor and sob, tears like waterfalls flow freely from his eyes. 

I only noticed what was going on when he clutched her bleeding body to himself and shook her, his salty tears mixing in with her blood. 

I tugged on my top before falling to the floor. I curled up into a ball and shook violently. I shook even when a boy, maybe 16 years old, picked me up and carried me into a car. He brushed the hair out of my eyes and kissed my forehead. 

I almost lowered the gun. She lunged forward. I pulled the trigger. 

And just like that she fell, as if a doll.

No Qotc.