Edited. Now without the silly mistakes [hopefully]. Also changed the chapter order slightly.
Killeatfuck.
Killeatfuck.
Killeatfuck.
God damn he wished his brain would shut up for five freaking minutes.
It was the same thing over and over again, nothing else, just those three little words running over his blackened brain making him go insane.
Well.
You know…more insane.
Since waking up he'd killed seven people in the space of two hours, all be it five of those people weren't really 'people' anymore but still. That wasn't exactly what a sane person would do now was it? No. The kid was off in the deep end lacking in the rubber armband department.
But he didn't mind.
It was annoying sure, but hell it just felt right. The constant buzzing in his ears hurt like a bitch but getting to crush someone's head beneath his fist, now that gave the boy a rush no drink or girl ever could.
He brought one blood soaked hand to his mouth and let his tongue unravel (he'd learnt how to retract it so it wasn't constantly hanging out of his mouth making him trip and stumble every five seconds) lapping up some of the crimson liquid almost purring at the taste.
Yes.
This was definitely right.
But still something was a little off…..he'd been doing something. Or he was meant to do something maybe? Frankie paused in the middle of the street, for the first time since he'd changed he had to put his brain to proper use, not just running of instincts like he had been doing. He knew he had to find someone, but who, that was the problem. Faces of those he'd killed ran through his brain but he quickly brushed them aside. They were dead. He didn't have time for dead people. If they didn't scream or move then they didn't interest him. Two faces flickerd in his brain for a split second but they were gone in an instant. His brain destroying the memory of the man and the woman who had housed him since birth, both of whom had been some of the first to die once the infection had started out. He didn't care about them anymore and in all honesty it was probably a good thing he couldn't remember them.
To upsetting.
He scratched his stomach while thinking then felt the scars on him tummy, brain now working in over drive as his eye fixed on the off coloured markings.
Now then.
They seemed a little more familiar.
A small smile spread over his face as he finally remembered what he'd been doing, or had been going to do at any rate.
The hunter.
The one who bit him.
The one who had his jumper.
The one who he teasedhurtmadefunof
Oh. Well that was odd.
Where had that come from? Frankie scratched the back of his neck feeling the slit where his other tongue came out of and shrugged, clicking his shoulders with a sickening popping sound. It didn't matter. He'd remembered now. He wanted to find the hunter. Hunter. Little tiny hunter. Heh, so small for one fo his kind, not that Frankie had seen many but still, his was was probably a pigmy or something.
Or a midget.
Or a freak.
Freakier then the others anyway.
It took him two whole days to find the hunters scent again. He'd found other hunters. And a witch. Even a tank (now that had hurt. But none of them had been HIS hunter. Not the one he wanted. Lusted. Craved for.)
Safe to say through the past two days only two of his primal instincts had been satisfied. Yet though he could probably over power one of the common infected he didn't want one of them. No. They were annoying and loud and smelled like human. He wanted the person who had ripped out his intestines instead. The one who had gouged out his own cute little eyes with his bare hands and not even cared. That's who he wanted.
The others could rot and let maggots take their virginity for all he cared.
It was odd though. When he slept (yes he had to sleep) he would often wake up to the scent of the hunter around him. As if he'd been close. In the same room even. Right beside him. Waiting and watching him as he dreamt of blood and gore and screams. It made him feel oddly happy. Or some form of emotion. He couldn't pin point what one, he was kinda beyond being able to tell how he felt now unless it was pain hunger or angry. But he felt something and that something was what kept him going, rummaging around through the broken city, killing anything that got to close and running when HE got to close to something he shouldn't.
(For something so small and dainty those witch's sure did hurt like a bitch.)
As a human he'd always had a very one track mind, and even now as something less then human he'd still retrained that personality trait which was serving him well. Every action he made was done with the simple desire to find the hunter. Touch him. Taste him. Bite him. Kill him. Fuck him.
Anything really, as long as he found him it didn't matter.
As he walked he let his mind wonder, small scenes often playing out in the back of his brain that held no meaning to him and he simply chose not to pay attention to them, letting them fester away in the back out of sight.
The class halls were empty, everyone had left apart from a few over worked teachers and the cleaners, all of which were currently in the staff room watching the football on the shitty black and white tv the school refused to replace.
Well, the halls were /almost/ empty, save for two students near the science labs.
"For fucks sake! Leave me alone" Bartholomew yelled, his faint accent coming through as he shoved his hands against Frankie's stomach making the taller boy smirk and slam his fist into the shorters nose, watching in sick pleasure as he stumbled back clutching his now bleeding face, curses coming out through ragged breathing. "N' what you gonna' do about it if I don't? You can't do shit, fucking midget. Can't even reach my fucking shoulders" Frankie sneered, pushing the boy back against the wall pinning his arms above his head. Trapping him there. Bartholomew fell silent, eyes fixed on the floor as he grit his teeth. He'd been through this routine hundreds of times before and while it pained him to keep silent he knew it was for the better. When Frankie saw the fight had gone from the boys eyes he frowned, ramming his knee sharply between the boys legs making his yelp and then vomit up into his mouth, not being able to him himself. Frankie jumped backwards, half pissed and half amused as he watched the boy slump forwards onto his knee's holding his groin between his hands trying to get the pain to fade. "Hehe, faggot, Gonna rub one out over me right now? Fucking queer. Come on, say it. Say you're a fucking queer" the older boy defiantly found it fun to make Bartholomew's life a living hell. There was no denying that. "Oi!" he knelt down and slapped the boys cheeks making sure he didn't get any vomit of them then sharply punched the kid in the gut in warning. "I said. Say. YOU'RE. A. FUCKING. LITTLE. QUEER" he screamed, voice escalating as Bartholomew continued to ignore him.
The boy shuddered, body heaving in pain as he felt tears brim to his eyes but refused to let them fall, wishing he hadn't left his one and only remaining jacket in the science rooms. He muttered something beneath his breath but obviously it wasn't enough as Frankie slapped him again making his already red burn even more.
"I s-said….You're a fucking queer."
The look that passed over the ghetto wannabe's face was definitely worth the beating he knew he'd damn well receive but hell, he couldn't help himself. It was to good to pass up.
Fists beat down against the back of his head making him curl up into a ball and hold onto his legs tightly, trying to block everything out, letting a moan pass by bleeding lips as Frankies foot slammed into the base of his spine sharply sending jolts of pain all the way up his back. He was sure he;d break something but someone must have been looking out for him as one of the cleaners, bored from the football game now (his home team had lost) walked up the stairwell and saw the scene going on before him. Frankie paused mid kick and then cursed before he grabbed the bloodied boys jumper by the end and pulled, yanking it over his head just as the cleaner got to them. He dodged the mans grip and then ran, smiling as he herd the man yell after him but do little else, obviously to concerned with the boy on the floor to try and chase after him.
Once back at his apartment Frankie opened his wardrobe and chucked the jumper inside along with the pile of clothing he'd already stolen from the younger boy, a considerably large pile in fact built up over years of misguided possessiveness. Frankie hated the kid. He didn't know why but hell, he knew beating the shit out of him made him happy and there was no way in hell he intended to stop.
Ever
Frankie scrambled over broken rubble that cut his hands and made the scruffy jeans he wore even scruffier as eh jumped down onto the other side, eye glancing over to the right as he watched a burning building slowly reduce to cinders as the fire escape bolted onto the side became to much of a burden and fell away, brining with it half of the left wall making the whole thing collapse in on itself.
Frankie coughed as the dust blew towards him and then he coughed some more, only now seeing the greenish smoke appear around him at the action. He wasn't that surprised though, He could feel his lungs rotting away inside his body, changing his carbon to something far more toxic. The only problem now was that with this final change to his body it meant he wouldn't be able to hide as well. But, he was quick, and moderately stealthy so it didn't seem like it would cause him that much of a problem. That was until the smog got so thick he couldn't see his own hands in front of his face, or anything for that matter.
He kept on walking though, his ears still being functional making sure he stayed clear of the crackling fire. His foot hit something soft and he looked down, unsure why he did since he couldn't see for shit but still.
It smelt like his hunter.
He picked up the wallet between his fingers, bringing it close enough to see through the fog still being pumped out by his rancid lungs, and opened up, ignoring as a few coins of spare change fell the floor rolling away. He looked at the school student card in the clear part of the wallet and just stared, eye looking over the boys blond hair and boyish features, a rather pissed off expression on his face.
"B….batho….Bartholomew?" he muttered, finding it a little hard to talk with a twenty foot tongue in his mouth. Also finding it a little hard to read but managing. He'd gone back to primal instinct but hell, it wasn't like he'd become retarded or something. Doing maths was out of the question but he could still read seeing as it was helpful. Helped him navigate around to find pray in different areas. Once again he wasn't sure why his body insisted he do something but he folded the wallet back up and clicked open one of the record pockets on his jeans, pushing the wallet in along side the shattered vintage disk and then doing the pocket back up to keep it safe.
It belonged to his hunters and for some strange reason that made him want to have it, it already being settled in his brain that if anyone attempted to take the wallet from him then they would be killed in a second.
He continued his trip through the city, passed the hospital that now housed patients with a virus that couldn't be fixed with any medication know to mankind. Past the gym where for some strange reason a tank could be seen behind the glass front, almost seeming to be reading the posters along the wall before smashing through said wall with a loud roar.
Eventually Frankie reached the city park, and at last, after two days of searching he found his hunter, currently being pinned between a tree and a witch. On the brink of having his face ripped off.
