You knew something was wrong.
You tried to tell them, and they, did not listen. No one ever wants to adhere to the cries of a person with a mind, full of voices, and a body, full of indescribable chaos...
“Oh look, it’s just the local psycho.” They’d murmur.
“Calaii.” You say, with a harsh tone. She turns to face you. “Doesn’t something feel... off?” You question, staring off into the black abyss of the television screen. “What do you mean, baby?..” She responds, confused.
Silence.
You shake your head, and look at her.
Calaii. Your girlfriend. You’ve been with her longer than you can remember. Before whatever this is, started.
You smile, warmly.
“Never mind... just my head, again..”
She smiles, and reaches for the remote.
She scans the television for Channel One, local news.
“Breaking News. We are here live from the centre of London.” The presenter stares into the camera. Her eyes, full of fear. You readjust yourself and listen intently. “Witnesses have reported seeing various acts of extreme violence against members of the city. No additional information has been uncovered about the people in question, however, there is one common trait among them. And that is the mutilation of the victims, along with intense forms of torture, before their disposal...” The presenter chokes on her own words. Drops of cold sweat fall down her forehead. “More to update on soon. Michael, back to you in the studio.”
You sit back, astonished. You turn to Calaii, “What the fuck is wrong with people these days?!” She sighs, obviously frustrated, and sits back, staring at the television as the news switches over to the weather. You glance away. “Well... people ‘these days’ are too fucked in the head. It’s all because of these ‘gangs’ and whatever. People think their tough as shit just because they know how to fight, or fire a gun, or just carry a pissy pocket knife. Pathetic.” You roll your eyes, and laugh, dryly. Calaii looks at you, and smiles. She looks conflicted.
Five minutes go by. You just began watching another update on issues within the government, when the TV flickered, and flashed back onto the news.
“Over to you, Ellie.”
The camera switches to an overhead shot from a helicopter cockpit.
“Thanks, Michael.”
You and Calaii immediately sit back up, and hunch over. Making sure you hear every drop of information.
“Here we are reporting live from Piccadilly Circus. Eye-witnesses, alone with CCTV footage have captured more of these gruesome acts, taking place. As you can see, police, paramedics, and armed forces have been called to cooperate in these investigations, and confrontations. Police say they are baffled as to whom has committed such devilish crimes, in such a small span of time.”
Again, the reporter pauses. She gulps and glances back to the cameraman for a moment.
“M-More on this soon. Back to you in the studio.”
Once again, the camera switches back to the presenter in the studio, who is also, panicked.
You slowly sit back. Your head, running wild with questions, without answers. Calaii grips your hand, and smiles. You nod your head. ‘Now isn’t the time...’ you think.
“This isn’t any normal gang attack I’ve ever seen. They’d use acid, or a quick few stabs... not mutilation, and torture. This is new, Calaii...” Your words cut through her. Panic slowly sets in, as you look into her eyes, and see tears forming...