The bloodied scissors rest in my sweaty palm, completely out of place, yet they seem like they have always fit. My victims quake in terror, crying out for help as I advance towards them, but I don't hear them. Soon, when I awake from this nightmare, I will realize what I have done and collapse under the stress- however, with my Master guiding me, I do not understand the severity of my crimes. I simply follow orders.
The night wears on. The people's screams have become a numbing background- melodic, actually, compared to the eerie silence of the forest. City lights glare at me in every direction, even with the sun rising. Soon, I am too weak and exhausted to wear on.
I drop the weapon to the ruined carpet of the apartment building, slowly staggering to the end of the hallway. A fog-stained window lies there, and I lean my form against the cool glass. My breathing is rapid and heavy, even for my standards. Even though I can barely move at the moment, I lift a trembling arm and draw a shaky symbol on the glass- a lopsided circle with an "X" across the entire thing. The symbol is all over the walls in the dark crimson liquid- it haunts me wherever I go. I leave it there for someone to find- someone else who knows what it means so they can understand.
I fall to the ground, my vision blurring. There is a wound in my side from where one of my victims had tried to fight back, and as the adrenalin rush fades, it pains me to no end, and I have to fight my own will to stay awake.
A figure moves into my field of vision, yet I can only comprehend their excessive height before my eyelids flutter shut. Cold arms curl under my limp form and lift me up gently.
you
did well tonight
"Thank . . . you . . ." I breathe, slowly starting to lose all feeling of the world around me. A slight breeze blows my stained dress and sticky, clumped-together hair to the side, and I have to choke out one last question before I can rest. "Are . . . you . . . taking me . . . home . . .?"
yes
I breathe out quietly and settle into the calming darkness.