of the world he despised so much, leaving it to the soft pudgy creatures who were bound to fuck it up by being so God-damned politically correct. No, that wouldn’t do; not at all. He summoned all of his remaining control and fired his weapon into the young girl who had brought about his death.
He managed to get off three shots which he clearly saw enter her chest. He felt her blood splatter on the side of his face. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, yet a curious burning sensation remained. He didn’t care. Why should he? He was going to die anyway.
He watched as the momentum of the bullets forced her to stumble backward until she slammed into the wall. Then, she slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position. For the first time since he had seen this girl, Jonsey finally saw a look of surprise on her face and the feeling of success flowed through him. He smiled. The gun dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. As his last bit of strength left him, he took a step toward the girl and then fell to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, he assumed that he had blacked out for a second from the forcefulness of the impact because the blood had continued to flow from his neck and had barely begun to pool on the floor. Lying there on the floor, he turned his head to the side to gloat over the girl’s body, which he expected to see slouched down in the sitting position next to the wall. There wasn’t any body. Had he imagined shooting her? Had he been delirious? No, he had shot her—he was sure. Then where the hell was her body? The bitch did not just get up and walk away after receiving three 9mm slugs to the chest—I saw her hit the wall and go down—point blank heart shots. What the fuck is going on?
He felt something touch his skin, a breath of air, but a heavy breath, which stank of something sour. He rolled his head back, expecting to see the ceiling of the room, but instead saw that her face was only inches from his. She was standing over him, glaring at him. Her eyes were a deeper red now and her teeth had elongated, hanging over the edge of her lips. His first thought was that she looked like an animal—an angry animal. He voided his bowels into his clothing, and he didn’t care—he was too scared.
His eyes searched her chest for the three spots where he thought he had seen the bullets enter. There was blood in the fabric of her clothing near the corresponding holes, but what was happening didn’t make sense to him. The holes were slowly closing up as if he were watching a video played in reverse. He was convinced he had truly gone mad or that he had already died and was starting his term in hell.
His eyes were drawn to the neck of the girl. What he had thought looked like a cloth neckband or collar before he saw now was something much sturdier. He thought it was made out of some sort of metal, like slaves or prisoners had worn in earlier times. There were two protrusions from it, one on each side. He thought he could see something within them, possibly a liquid of some kind—but he wasn’t sure. What function the collar served he had no idea—and he didn’t think it mattered.
“Who are you?” he said. His voice gurgled from the blood in his mouth, and streams of blood exited his mouth and dripped down the sides of his face.
“You are not a nice man,” she said, her voice sounding deep, very deep. Her breathing was heavy, like an animal that had labored arduously.
This is not a little girl, he thought, but something else—something not human.
“You’re evil and deserve to die. Not like the others that we have killed tonight,” she said.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
As he waited for an answer, the sight of the girl leering over him faded into nothingness. As she vanished into the darkness, Jonsey died, feeling defeated.
The young girl remained standing over the man’s body for several seconds. Her breathing slowed as her anger dissipated. Now calmer, she
He managed to get off three shots which he clearly saw enter her chest. He felt her blood splatter on the side of his face. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, yet a curious burning sensation remained. He didn’t care. Why should he? He was going to die anyway.
He watched as the momentum of the bullets forced her to stumble backward until she slammed into the wall. Then, she slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position. For the first time since he had seen this girl, Jonsey finally saw a look of surprise on her face and the feeling of success flowed through him. He smiled. The gun dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. As his last bit of strength left him, he took a step toward the girl and then fell to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, he assumed that he had blacked out for a second from the forcefulness of the impact because the blood had continued to flow from his neck and had barely begun to pool on the floor. Lying there on the floor, he turned his head to the side to gloat over the girl’s body, which he expected to see slouched down in the sitting position next to the wall. There wasn’t any body. Had he imagined shooting her? Had he been delirious? No, he had shot her—he was sure. Then where the hell was her body? The bitch did not just get up and walk away after receiving three 9mm slugs to the chest—I saw her hit the wall and go down—point blank heart shots. What the fuck is going on?
He felt something touch his skin, a breath of air, but a heavy breath, which stank of something sour. He rolled his head back, expecting to see the ceiling of the room, but instead saw that her face was only inches from his. She was standing over him, glaring at him. Her eyes were a deeper red now and her teeth had elongated, hanging over the edge of her lips. His first thought was that she looked like an animal—an angry animal. He voided his bowels into his clothing, and he didn’t care—he was too scared.
His eyes searched her chest for the three spots where he thought he had seen the bullets enter. There was blood in the fabric of her clothing near the corresponding holes, but what was happening didn’t make sense to him. The holes were slowly closing up as if he were watching a video played in reverse. He was convinced he had truly gone mad or that he had already died and was starting his term in hell.
His eyes were drawn to the neck of the girl. What he had thought looked like a cloth neckband or collar before he saw now was something much sturdier. He thought it was made out of some sort of metal, like slaves or prisoners had worn in earlier times. There were two protrusions from it, one on each side. He thought he could see something within them, possibly a liquid of some kind—but he wasn’t sure. What function the collar served he had no idea—and he didn’t think it mattered.
“Who are you?” he said. His voice gurgled from the blood in his mouth, and streams of blood exited his mouth and dripped down the sides of his face.
“You are not a nice man,” she said, her voice sounding deep, very deep. Her breathing was heavy, like an animal that had labored arduously.
This is not a little girl, he thought, but something else—something not human.
“You’re evil and deserve to die. Not like the others that we have killed tonight,” she said.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
As he waited for an answer, the sight of the girl leering over him faded into nothingness. As she vanished into the darkness, Jonsey died, feeling defeated.
The young girl remained standing over the man’s body for several seconds. Her breathing slowed as her anger dissipated. Now calmer, she
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