Prologue
Imagine that you were going to kill someone. What do you think would be the most difficult part? Three, two, one…time's up! The correct answer: killing someone. Now, now no need to scowl, I swear I am not playing linguistic tricks here. I am in fact deadly serious. Humans in general are creatures not designed to die all that easily. People almost never grunt, moan and fall over dead. None of your typical methods of murder such as – strangulation, blunt force trauma, stabbing, kill people so effortlessly. Additionally to this and an overlooked fact in most cases – people have the tendency to resist being murdered. After all nobody wants to be killed. So the human's internal back up – the adrenalin, kicks in and physical strength in the victim reaches levels that do not vary that much from their oppressor's. Deriving from this, in a one-on-one fight both sides have an equal chance of survival. So what does bend the scales in favor of the killer?
State of the mind, would be the correct answer according to psychological studies, yet…yet bending over the dismembered corpse, she couldn't help, but think that there was something more. A lot more to this, than just simple rules of psychology. Her sapphire eyes followed the rivers of blood streaming out of the body and connecting in wire like system on the pavement. The dark liquid glistened under the pale touches of moon light, making it appear alive. The same substance coursed in her system, the same elusive color and she was sure that her skin had the same pale shade of wax white like the dead man at her feet. Her heart, though, unlike his pounded with the speed of a thousand running horses, her mind not far behind in this race. Cold beads of sweat appeared on her forehead as she looked about herself in the silent night.
She had to run.
Taking a step back her bare feet slipped on the wet ground and fell face forward on top the ripped chest of the corpse. The retching feeling rose within her as she suppressed the convulsive shudders wreaking her body.
What had she done?
Slowly lifting her head, she exiled. Warm brown locks, now drenched in gluttonously red fluid, stuck to her dirtied face. Delicate pinkish lips trembled ever so lightly as her tongue darted out to lick the blood from the corners of her mouth. It tasted like life, power…raw and sickeningly attractive. She felt her pulse throb in her ears. The grayish patched dress, soaked much like her hair, gave away the sinful act the girl had committed. A slaughter? A self defense? Would someone believe her?
She had to escape.
Getting on her feet, the petit female stared at her hands and the knife that they were holding. Splash, splash, splash the little drops lamented as they fell from the weapon and hit the cold stones of the carriageway. A crow squawked as it landed mere meter from the body. Its head tilting to one said as it observed the chopped body of the man. Black eyes like eternal holes blinked rapidly as the bird gamboled near the head of the corpse. Its beak snapped a couple of times before the crow pecked one of the eyes of the dead man.
"Shoo…go away!" rasped the girl somewhat afraid of the bird. Her voice weak and unsure didn't seem at all threatening to the creature and it continued to tear at the flesh of the face. To the horror of the dark haired female, more crows joined the first ready to feast on the main exhibit in this crime. The air was filled with clacking sounds of nimble beaks professionally working to consume the still man.
Scared of this sight, the girl started backing away slowly, her breath caught in her throat as she made her escape. Upon reaching the end of the dingy street she turned on her heels and dashed to nowhere in particular. Her small feet were freezing to the point where she felt them numb, her lungs hurt from the chilly November air as they desperately convulsed. But she couldn't stop. She mustn't stop. Her bright blue eyes were filled with crystal tears that shone like little diamonds kissed by the moon rays. But they were not going to wet her cheeks. No. That would mean failing to live up to her own set rules, morals, standards…she couldn't let that happen, when these were the only things that she had left.
Abigail Hobbs was not going to give up that easily. Oh, no…she was just stretching to reach her start.
A/N: Greetings! Yes I know I have another story that is in progress, but this idea just keeps bugging me and alas it doesn't let me rest! So here it is something different, which I hope you'll like. Reviews are greatly appreciated!