"Well who do we have here?" a voice echoed from behind me. Blood still on my hands from fatty fuck-head.
I turned, and laughed.
"Someone you wish you could be." I laughed, and took off running.
But in mid stride, something hit me in the back, the pain radiated out engulfing my entire body.
"Don't run from me dumb bitch. I just want to talk." he lifted me from the pavement by the collar of my white lab coat.
"So who are you?" he asked skeptically.
"The-The Chemist." I willed out.
He looked at me, his eyes were pitch black, the rest I could see was just a blur of red. Red everywhere. Blood red. I was liking this feeling.
"So this is your shtick, your a science nerd?" he asked laughing.
"And your a great big bloody tampon?" I asked, I giggled.
"Fuck you, come on I fucked you up pretty bad. Other than a wicked fast mouth, your no threat to me." he said, a little pissed.
He sat me next to the wall, and pulled the throwing knife out of my back.
"I have some too." I said, and pulled out a set of twelve black and white throwing knifes.
"Really into this whole black and white thing huh?" he asked looking at me.
My white hair tangled in the breeze, I looked down my white jacket was covered in blood, my white and black striped body suit was dirty, and my black boots were scuffed, and I was feeling increasingly lightheaded.
"Damn it Red Mist, you got me all dirty." I said back, my voice hoarse.
"Well I needed to speak to you. So chill the fuck out." he said
"I've seen you fuck up full grown men without even getting a scratch, I could use someone like you in my operation." his voice was soft.
"Yea whatever, don't bull shit yourself, if you've seen me work, then you know I don't play well with others." the pain in my back was lessening.
"I see that, well whatever, be stubborn, I don't give a fuck. But when you're ready to hit the big leagues hit me up." he started to walk away but then turned.
"And if you wanna go on a date or something, well...I'd love to, your pretty fuckable." he snickered and walked away.
What a little shit, I thought to myself.
"The only thing cool about you is your fucking hair!" I yelled into the darkness, but no reply.
I fell to my knees, I guessed I had lost a lot of blood. It was time to go home.
I changed on the way, I had told my parents I had gotten a job at the local grocery store and they would only let me work nights. I was an artist with bullshit.
I made it home. My parents were already asleep. Thank god. I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. It was dark and cozy. Exhausted I fell onto my bed. I rolled over and poked at the gash in my back. It wasn't as bad as I had thought, just hurt like a bitch.
I made it to my bathroom, and stripped down. The shower was cold on my skin. But burned the gash in my back even more. But unlike a lot of other pissed off teens, I didn't like the pain, it didn't remind me I was still alive, or get me off. All the pain did was remind me of the accident. The pain I felt there would haunt me for the rest of my life. It was searing, and breath taking. The moment when Dillon died was the worst pain I've ever felt, it was like the gash in my back, but times a million.
The pain was torture, and the reminder it brought with it was even worse. That's why I aimed for sheer perfection when it came to my nightly activities. I didn't want any pain. I didn't want the pain of loss all over again, and tonight when Red Mist got me in the back with that throwing knife it felt like I was going to die. I swore that I would never forgive him for what he did no matter how small it was, it was just another reminder of my past life.
Someone once told me that salvation lies within. But how can I save myself when there's nothing left inside me. I'm empty, and hollow. Salvation lies within a great black pit of despair? Salvation lies within a heart what has turned to garbage? Salvation lies in those who want it, in those that deserve it.
I was alone here, in my salvation-less pit of self hate. But there might be someone who felt the same, someone who was as hollow as myself...that big bloody tampon might understand, and if he didn't, I'd kick his ass for the hell of it.
