Introversions

Déteste

I guess you could say I was acting over the top.

I guess you could say I didn't deserve this.

I guess you could say "I'm sorry."

But it's too late.
It was always too late the moment I crumbled.
Like the old ruins or the breadcrumbs you ate.

My head is pounding, tears threaten to sting my eyes for the thousandth time today.

My nose is blocked and my body still shaking.

My breathing is slightly hitched, the tears ever so slowly rolling down my face.

That was the last straw.

The final warning.

The last chance.

They blew it all away.

Just like everything else I cared for in this sadistic, twisted and broken world.

Though they never said or did anything directly to me, I could still feek the pain from their hate to me.

I always tried to be nice!

I always tried to act friendly!

Though I was distant, awkward, oblivious and not caring in their eyes.

I tried even though I don't like them.

My mother always said that I should be the better person and treat people nicely no matter how much you hate them.

She went back on this when I told her.
She was the opposite of what I wanted- needed! But she couldn't do it! She never can! She doesn't understand what it means to be in my place! Where everyone treats you like scum!

I'M OLDER THAN THEM! I DESERVE TO BE RESPECTED! ITS ALL I WANTED! I NEEFED TO BE RECOGNISED AS A NICE AND FRIENDLY PERSON WHO CAN RESPECT OTHERS, NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE THEY ARE!

That was all I needed.

All the confirmation was there.

All the proof.

Everything was there, in front of me.

In monochrome.

My eyes darkened and I felt the darkness surrounding me, causing the air around to feel much more oppressive.

With a snarl and a smirk embroidered on my face, I walked towards them, knuckles cracking amidst the silence and tension.

My footsteps like a knife, cutting through the atmosphere.

I forcefully shoved them onto their skinny knees, nervous exoressions painted their features.

I grabbed the first one by her hair.
She let out a pathetic cry.
I whispered in her ear her crime and the consequences of her actions.
I held onto her shoulder with one hand and pulled her head, giving me clear access to her bare neck.

Quickly, my foot slammed onto her back and a shrill scream was cut short by the sound of ripping.

Her head dangled from the hair gripped in my fist, her headless body dropping to the floor with her blood splashing on the faces of the others and the ground, pooling around the six of us, slowly.

Tch. I threw the head across the room and continued to repeat the process with the other four girls, hesitant with the third girl but still proceeded, without regret.

The five headless bodies were in a bloodied heap in front of me, the heads strewn wildly across the now empty room.

I needed to finish what I started. I am still in pain despite justice.

The tears now streamed down, the headache now pounding and dizzying and my body shaking violently.

I let out broken sobs and held the knife towards me.

The blade shone in the moonlight; the tears staining it.

It was at that moment when I raised the knife to my neck, I realised that I was cowardly.

I let them live and I was going to die because I felt sorrow.

I needed a stronger reason. I knew I could beat the shit out of those bitches.

I could become the predetor, chasing effortlessly after my prey; the fire in my heart growing ever stronger, the knife aimed away from myself.

The only revenge I needed to give them is ny own hatred for them and playing dirty to lower themselves to the level they put me at.

My past lives all cheering me on happy that I could finally see sense.

My train coming towards the light at the end of the tunnel, knowing now the destination I am headed.