The Consequences of Death
Kristina Chang
Word count: 202
Rage
Red. The colors of his vision were Red and Black. Black as the night sky. And Red as her precious spilled life. He saw no shapes or forms, friend or foe. His vision was filled with Red/Black haze. And her.
She was across the room, and the Black and Red was in his way. He needed to get to her. He needed to save her. He needed Her.
He fought and fought and screamed through the haze to reach her. It didn't matter what was between him and her. If it didn't move, he would just keep fighting. He would get her.
He moved through the crowd like oil on water, his determined body handing out punishment on anyone close enough. He reached the attacker and held on subconsciously. His friends tried to pull him off the man, bloody flesh and bones. Once he let go, he turned on them.
Most tried to restrain him, but that didn't last. Some tried to calm him with words, but he no longer heard nor understood.
They pinned him down, but still he strove to buck off his restraint of bodies. Arms outstretched, he reached for her, the only thing within the Red Black haze.
