Ripper: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Highway

I was on the run in the morning.

It's been many hours since I had fled Colfax, and many hours since I faced the most horrifying night of my life. Never had I ever endured so much grief, so much death, and so much destruction to terrorize me inside. It seemed as if the whole world of mine had suddenly been brought down to its knees by one single force. Nothing had been more tragic than to watch an entire family, a happy family, be slaughtered in cold ruthless blood just to get to me. And with InGen still on my tail and desperate to end me for good, I had no reason to stay and mourn for my losses.

The heavy heart I carried of Colfax, California had long been ignored from my mind, but ingrained inside me remained the happy and doomed faces of the family that saved me that one afternoon oh so long ago. Each one of them reflected a toxic memory that could never be forgotten no matter how vicious I wished to become, or how desperate I wanted the pain to end. At times I would hear their sad and miserable voices echo my name alongside the distant winds of the American desert, fearing that their souls would never rest unless I fall first. But alas, it was my fault they all ended up like this. I put them all in harm's way.

Including Belle.

Poor sweet little Belle. She was the youngest and most innocent creature I've ever met. I'd recall when her face would bloom like a thousand sunflowers in the summer starlight above, and her dress would flutter like butterflies in the wind. Eyes sparkled and her teeth would gleam, and the feeling of her little tiny fingers against my nostrils made my snout throb. Nothing could dare combat her innocence and beauty like the way it tormented me at this very moment while the memory reigned on, until all I could think about was her.

All I could think about was how horrible it must've felt when she boiled alive in her bed.

I felt like a coward and an insult to abandoning her, and the past. It didn't seem right for me to leave them to such a tragic fate and not suffer the same consequence. If I were to die I should've done it alongside them, or way before I had ever met them.

Perhaps the world would make sense if I remained impaled on that Trike. Perhaps life would be better if I stayed dead.

My current injuries still oozed fresh blood from the deepest of wounds, leaving a large trail of splattered memories that dried in the sun and against the warm asphalt beneath me. My blood temperature rose higher and higher as I wandered through the empty desolate highway, wheezing quietly as my muscles twitched and leaked more liquids. A soft boom of thunder rocketed overhead, signaling the beginning phases of an incoming rainstorm. But alas that didn't matter, for now- my soul had been drenched in a rain of sorrow for far too long.

How much longer until I die? I asked.

My mind, perplexed from the odd and threatening question, just frowned and seemed to denounce my statement just to satisfy itself.

You're fine, it said back, You're hallucinating old friend. You just need shade, that's all.

I need to die for what I did, I swallowed, feeling my stomach churn and lurch at the words, I'm not hallucinating, I'm being truthful because I am guilty.

We're not finished yet, my mind snarled, we came all this way for a reason. You cannot escape your destiny when you're this close! Use their deaths to enlighten you, Ripper, to encourage you to push on. But don't let their souls hold you back!

So now you accept them as a part of me, I slightly whimpered, Earlier you wanted me to kill them. It seems as though you too can't choose a side.

I side with you Ripper. I'm never against you, nor will I let you fall, dear friend.

I continued walking through the torrid world, groaning as another strong heatwave pummeled my spine, hot enough that at one point I somewhat believed my back was lit on fire. At times I went onto my two hind legs, easing the pressure on my shoulders, wondering if it'll help. It didn't really make any difference besides increasing the rate of my spilling blood, turning the thick gooey beads into a watery drizzle.