This is a story I've been working on for a while now. It is rated highly as, although not at the very beginning, there will be very descriptive, harsh violence and dark humour so if you are easily offended I appologise but this may not be the story for you. Any criticism and reviews are welcome, I hope you enjoy. ^-^
Murderer. That's what they call me. They say I'm a sick psycho, scream at me for killing one of the people closest to me. But I didn't do it! It pisses me off that no one wants to believe me, but I can't blame them; mum did walk in on me, standing next to my brother - his blood smeared all over the walls - with a knife in hand. But I was trying to protect him, trying to be a good big brother for a change. That creature will pay; pitch black skin, veins popping from every muscle on his body. I will murder that son-of-a-bitch if it kills me, I will avenge my brother no matter what I have to face. But still it bothers me, it wasn't natural the way he moved, so quickly, so much like a predator hunting prey. I don't even remember if he hit me, the last thing I remember was a striking pain from a force so incredibly quick it was invisible to even my keen eyesight. And that shadow, laughing right behind him, I will find them and destroy them both.