There was a thirty fourth, and a thirty fifth, though he never really knew of them. Every time, his frustration would grow at seeing his prays being killed before he got to them. I could see it in his face, as he slowly built up pent up rage. I could see it eating him from inside. He was annoyed, on the verge of hunting me down.
I was destroying, killing, slaughtering, evicting, gutting my guests. In a feat of madness, I smeared blood onto my hand before, with a scream of rage and pain, slamming it onto the wall. The hurt I felt, I wanted him to share it as well. I could feel the house shake under the blazing hate taking over my body. Everything went Red. I remember writing with the blood around me a message to the Alligator, mocking his attempts at catching me. He had made an enemy out of me the day he had left the motel.
I fell to the floor.
My knees were pressed tight against my chest, as I blankly stared at my art. The blood was slowly, sickly, thickly rolling down the wall in uncertain waves. The dead bodies, or what was left of them, were laying in a pool of their own blood. And I was there, in the middle of the orderly chaos. Blankly staring at the door. Expecting Him to come through at any given moment. Any single moment.
He didn't.
After three hours of rocking back and forth on my hills, the Red receded. My mind cleared as I slowly gained control over my actions. No longer was I a beast trapped in the cage of my own mind. The blood had dried all around me, and Venia was slowly buzzing. Trying to fix a wire in my brain. It had snapped the day Nichol left. I shakily got up to my feet, as Venia came to cover my whole body. Once I was devoid of any identity, entirely covered by a skin of adamant, I left the room.
The flakes of dried blood were being shed off by Venia, who slowly started to glow from the evening sun. I quickly covered myself with my cloak, and faded into the shadows of the night.
Alligator Nichol. You will be the next pray.