After hours of walking to the nearest train station, Christine finally caught a train to the station farthest South, where she could take a ferry to Copenhagen, then (with some luck) she could catch a train to France. She sighed in relief, knowing she had everything under control.
Blood...
Everything except that infuriating little voice. She wanted to cry just thinking about it; it was all the voices' fault she had to leave! She hated it! What had she done to deserve these voices demanding blood and tormenting her?
I can think of a few things, starting with the fact that-
"Stop..." Christine weakly muttered, she hated herself for allowing the voice to hurt her. She adjusted to a more confident stance, mustering up the courage to ask where the restroom is. "Pardon me sir, where may I find the restroom?"
"Sorry young miss, the only restroom is all the way up there near first class, at the front of this ol' thing"
"I see" Christine said quietly, beginning her trek to very front of the train with broken spirits. Her heart still throbbed painfully when she thought about her children's demise. She wanted so badly to cry, but she couldn't embarrass herself in front of all these people.
BLOOD!
The voices resurged with a new strength, and no matter how hard Christine tried to block them out, she just couldn't.
Blood! BLOOD!
They all echoed and overlapped, creating dissonance with the pitches they screamed at. Her walk fastened to a run as she tried foolishly to outrun the voices
You will never escape! NEVER ESCAPE! No escape...
She seemed to be running forever, leaving confused and upset passengers in her wake. Until finally, she saw the door within her sight. Christine ran to the bathroom door and slammed it shut behind her, not realizing someone was already inside.
"Why hello there little lady, you wanna have some fun?" She tried backing away, but it proved useless considering the small area.
"Oh, I am dreadfully sorry sir, I will just leave now" The 12 year old girl blushed, noticing his... area as he turned his body away from the toilet in order to face her.
"You are goin' nowhere, sweetcheeks" Christine looked up at the man, terrified.
BLOOD! BLOOD! Blood! Blood! Blood! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOOOOOODD! KILL HIM!
For once, Christine listened, and took the porcelain shard from her bag in a blind panic as the man advanced towards her, not stopping to trifle with frivolous questions of morality.
"My my, what a nice little bosom you ha-" The man was cut off by Christine shoving the shard into his throat, creating a gurgling sound and drawing massive amounts blood when ripped out.
Yes...
Christine watched as blood gushed forth from the man's throat, warm and a beautiful maroon in color, his blood was the texture of silk with a sticky after effect. It flowed for about ten seconds before slowly dying out, taking the man's life along with it.
"What have I done?" She cried, weeping about the man who just had his life stolen by her.
You KILLED a man you STUPID WEAK UGLY BITCH!
Christine only cried harder in response.
You SICK PYSCHO BASTARD!
She cried until her tears were all spent, then she decided to search through the man's pockets with a heavy heart, broken soul, and tearstained face.
