Unravelled

The clock struck one, the early morning dark and lonesome. Shadows were hidden away themselves; a lack of light stripping them away from the corners of these streets, from the men walking and laughing, intoxicated and lost in their sorrows. The shop windows were stark and unlit, waiting for dawn to arrive with the potential to show off their displays once more. Quiet was mingled with the calming, clanking of boats and anchors, of the wind's breath.

A woman stands at the bus stop, looking haggard and tired; her blonde hair tied tightly into a tail spilling down the back of her big, black coat. Her cheeks were flustered by the wind, two dark eyes moving erratically from corner to corner, gripping to her handbag like she expected someone to come take it, she looked scared. She looked like a victim, the target. There was no bus until 6:17am, she looked to be about twenty years old. How could she let herself become so vulnerable, this young woman... I couldn't help myself.

She led it on herself, standing there alone so early... Too early. The night had a prospect of death, an atmosphere, no one will know: The wind will cover their ears, the night blanket her blood, her corpse. It's meant to be. She still didn't see me coming, though now I was visible. I don't look scary, I don't look like a bad guy, she won't expect it from me, oh how the thought excites me. I begin walking towards her, her features becoming more piercing. I see two earbuds tucked into her ear canal... She sees me! She sees me! Her eyes widen, shock! Oh, how I love this feeling. She sees me coming, she grips her bag, takes those earbuds out. What will she do? She looks around, looking back at me.

I walk directly towards her, hands in my pockets, gripping the soft patterned material and pushing it to and fro between my index finger and my thumb... Satisfying. She looks at me, turns around and hastily walks off. I walk faster, my feet slapping this pavement. I follow her around the corner, on the bankment besides the harbour. The tide's high, the boats look taller and larger. Like I was once again a boy, everything twice my size: I'm no boy though! No boy at-all! Now she is running, her quiet steps tapping the hard brick floor. She turns the corner, racing up the bridge and running further away.

This side of the harbour is darker, it's perfect. I must strike soon, this lighting will be perfect!

I run fast towards her, grabbing her arm, she squeals, pulling away but she's so fragile, so small;

a fawn in the hands of a lion. I pull her down, the gravel and the concrete pushing into her skin. I hear the bash of her bones. She cries out! I stand over her, kicking her into position, standing on her wrists to keep her in place. I feel the small bones crumble,she screams more!

I love this. I love this.

I clamber down on top of her, my legs against hers. I lean my head against hers, looking into her eyes, like lovers, they're so big and dilated, fear glistening in the tears streaming down her cheeks. 'Don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me.'' She pleads in a helpless, shuddering whisper. I smile down at her, a small helpless smile, before cracking my head into her face, feeling the crack of her nose and smelling the sudden stream of blood. She howls, her cries morphing into an endless scream. I remove my feet from her wrists, pulling her arms up and twisting them into an 'S' shape, sighing along with the snaps and cracks of her shattering bones. I tramp along her belly, knowing under my feet sits broken ribs and squashed organs. She's no longer screaming or whimpering, naturally quiet. Naturally- there's nothing more natural than death... Than the dead.

I feel powerful, I am a God.

I steal life and can give life, I am God.

I kick her with a rhythm, the sound of scuffing skin my melody.

An abrupt cough wakens me from the dream, my bones tense back up and I become again aware of this entire existence. I can still taste the salt on my lips. The classroom is damp and sweaty, peering eyes and chattering voices filling the spaces where even the air is getting suffocated. Harsh artificial lighting screams down at us all, the weather outside wet and windy.