“Is it always so dark in here?”
I don’t know why I said that. My voice is shaky and my heart’s still pounding in my ears. I guess talking makes me feel like I have at least a little control over my situation.
But the stocky woman sitting across from me provides no answer. The space for a reply is merely filled by the rumble and hum of the police van as the cop continues to stare at me with her dark but vigilant eyes. At the front of the van, the rest of the police squad stays just as silent as her.
She’d been holding me down just a few moments ago, telling me something like ‘it’s okay’ and ‘it’s going to be alright’ until I gave up and sat quietly. Then she quieted as well, lost all emotion from her face, and moved back. It was kind of weird until I realize that she’d probably only been faking that ‘I’m here to help’ act to sound like a model cop. I’m not sure for whom when it’s obvious that everyone in this car hates me, a murderer, a child murderer, and wants to see me suffer, her included. Maybe it was for the people at the library, if they could still hear it. Couldn’t blame them for wanting to look better so no one accused them of the same police brutality the Usonians are said to commit.
I lean back onto the wall. The white block protruding from it doesn’t make for a terribly comfortable seat. The discomfort isn’t helped by my cuffed hands forcing an awkward curve to my back.
I guess it really is dark in here, though. There’s no source of illumination save for the tiny gridded windows at the front and the back. Through their little square holes, the blue of the outside sky shines in, casting its faint, cold light on me and the woman.
Alright. I don't know how long this ride is going take as I don't exactly know where I’m being taken, but I do know that it's someplace I really don't want to be. Then again, I suppose there's a scale to it. If I’m taken somewhere I can still possibly run away from, that's a small bad thing. If they're taking me straight to jail, that's a bigger bad. If they take me to a chair with cords coming out of it…
No, they have to take me somewhere before those latter two. Everyone gets a trial, right? And I don't even know how much evidence they have - they might not have enough, or at least not enough for the worst punishment for each of my crimes combined. Though considering that'd be several lifetimes, just one step down from that won't be too much help.
And there's still the issue of the ghost in my head. If they don't have enough on me yet, she'd surely be glad to give them all they need via my own vocal chords.
I shudder, causing the metal cuffs to chafe into my wrists, which in turn makes me grunt in discomfort.
“Where are we even going?” I ask, fully prepared for just more silence.
“We’ll be there soon,” says the cop, surprisingly enough. Her tone is mechanical and her eyes are fixed on the window on the front. Oh, no need to actually pay attention to me. It’s not like I’m a serial killer or anyone important.
“Yes, but where?”
No answer. Back to this, I see.
“Where?” I demand.
The woman reacts this time, but only by rolling her eyes.
Oh, I’m a joke to you? Just an annoyance? I killed nine people. Eight of them I ripped apart and ate parts of. I stalked them all for weeks and made them vanish without a trace. I’m a cold-blooded killer, show some goddamn respect! Awareness of the situation! If I wasn’t cuffed, I’d have my hands around your stupid bitch neck!
An itch crawls onto my temple. Dammit, not now! I don’t have anything to scratch that… couldn’t you have appeared during any of the countless moments I’ve had with my hands free? Fuck, it’s getting stronger…
The cop gives me a strange look as the left side of my face severely twitches in a vain effort to ease the itch. Great, now I look like a stereotype. And the itch isn’t going.
I lean my head to the side, reaching for the shoulder. I rub the side of my face on it, but it’s too low to reach the itchy spot. Maybe the wall? I turn to it, but quickly decide not to try my luck with it. Who knows what kind of filthy people they’ve held in here….
The hum of the motor lowers in pitch, and I’m pushed towards the front of the car. We’re slowing down. We stop.
Well, that was a short ride… I guess that’s good news for me, since I don’t think the worst places to end up in are near my neighborhood.
Seatbelts are unfastened, car doors opened, steps taken outside. The doors of the back swivel apart, letting in the outside light intense enough to draw my eyelids almost all the way shut. Between my lashes, black figures begin to take shape over the white. Black, then blue, then composed of many colors. One with reddish brown around its head leans in.
“Was he alright for the ride?” it asks. It’s a she, and a she with a voice I recognize. She was also at the beach - she’s the red-haired policewoman.
“Yeah, he was,” replies the stocky woman as she steps down onto the street.
The red-haired woman climbs in, shoes clanking on the metal floor, and gestures to me to get up. “Alright, let’s go.”
I take my time standing up, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness. The view outside sharpens, revealing more cops. Quite a lot of cops. All their eyes are on me. My breathing gets shakier as the woman places her hand on my arm, the touch startling the limb.
I walk to the edge of the floor and hop off, the woman escorting me the whole way. I look around. Every side seems to have an equal amount of people. Beyond them, plain woods surrounding this opening and some large, white building. Looks like there’s no crevice in the crowd for me to slip through… yet, at least.
“Is everything ready?” someone asks.
“Should be, yeah,” another answers. I hope I don’t have to stick around to find out what they mean.
The cops’ faces turn - simultaneously, unsettlingly enough - to what lies ahead. We begin to head for the white building about a dozen meters away. Pretty bland looking, as this concrete cuboid seems to only have one metal door and not a single window. Is it some kind of storage? And where is the street? I look back, only to see a solitary asphalt road surrounded by more wavering trees. Is this a back entrance, or…
“Where am I?” I ask the redhead still by my side as we begin to move.
“It’s okay,” she says, face and tone blank. “We’re here to help.”
Why would she… say it like that? Was that sarcasm? It didn’t seem like sarcasm. It was… ominous.
This isn’t right. This is all wrong. Nothing makes sense. I need to get away, get the hell away from here before they drag me in through that door. I have a feeling that if I enter it, I won’t ever be coming out. And if I will, I won’t be doing so as the same man.
I keep my head still while I glance to my left. There’s a gap between two officers. My jaw tightens. It isn’t the best opportunity, but I know I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t try it and a new one never comes.
I try to calm my breathing, relax my shoulders, slow down my heartbeat. It has to be out of the blue. I blink. I’m normal. Yeah, I’m normal.
“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi...” sings a pippiret somewhere. “Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-”
I ram my foot into the woman’s shin. As she recoils, I bolt for the gap. The surprised faces of the cops sweep past, then it’s just the spruces in front of me. I hear shouts from behind, but nothing touches me. Did I do it? I think I did it! I just need to make it to the woods and lose them --
Something knocks onto my foot, something that wasn’t there before, and after a moment of weightlessness, I fall onto the forest floor. Face first. The pain clouds my thoughts and senses and I forget where I am until I hear running steps come up to me from behind. Shit.
The cops say something and grab me by the arms, lifting me up onto my feet. One even has the decency to sweep the forest floor debris off my body and face. Then they start walking me back to the other cops, and I have no real choice but to go with them.
“Is he alright?” asks the red-headed cop as we arrive back behind the building.
“He’s alright,” answers one of the cops holding me. Then we head for the door, some cops in front of me and some cops behind me.
I swallow, my throat dry. “What are you going to do to me?” I ask weakly.
The cops in front turn to me in unison. “We’re here to help,” they all respond at the same time.
I’m not going to ask any more questions.
Okay. Okay. This is weird, but it can’t be so bad, right? This is Hojo, a civilized state. A democracy, a free region. They can’t do anything inhumane to me. That’s forbidden by law.
But they’re cops. They are the law. They decide the law. They have the power. They can do anything. Who’s going to stop them?
The cops in front reach the door. They open it for us. It creaks. The inside of the building is dark. I expect them to turn the lights on as we approach, but they don’t. They lead me into the darkness. I try to make out the features of the room, but the darkness is thick. How can it even be this dark if the door is open and the sun is shining outside? How are they able to see where they’re going?
Nothing to see in front, I look behind me. I can see a closet near the doorframe. It’s as white as the walls and floor of the room, or at least the little I can see of them. And I’m about to see even less now that the last cop has entered and is beginning to shut the door.
Slam. It’s pitch black.
The cops holding me let go and step away. As their steps quiet, the only thing I hear is my own frantic heartbeat and breath.
Click. The room illuminates. The details of the room pounce onto my retinas, and I’m more confused than ever.
Elegant arches. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the high roof, carpet of red velvet on the floor. Paintings of beautiful men, women and animals on the walls. Golden vine-like decorations running up and down all surfaces.
In front of all this, right next to me, a snow-white sheet covers something immobile and human-sized. Someone standing behind the whole thing. A man. Now he’s moving. He’s stepping into view. I see his face, his tall bulky figure, his pale hair and blue eyes and I realize who it is.
“What’s he doing here?” I demand from the policemen, but they’ve all turned away from me - towards the closet. The clacks from their shoes fill the room as they form a line in front of it. One by one, they open its door, pull out some kind of long, white garment and return to their spots.
I look back at Samson. He has one of those garments as well, hung around his arm. With that arm’s hand, he holds a leather-covered book opened in the middle. With the other hand, he fidgets with his golden pendant.
That pendant...
I study the decorations of the room more closely. They too are golden, and the familiar pattern of the mountain goat head with looping horns repeats.
This is an Arukeist chapel.
Samson snaps the book shut and hands it to the red-haired policewoman. “Alright,” he announces, facing the crowd of cops. “We all appear to be present. Let us begin.”
A wave of swooshes rolls over the room as all its inhabitants - sans me - put on their garments, which I now see to be robes. Everyone but Samson has their hood on, hiding their face, but the redheaded woman remains recognizable afterwards due to her locks peeking out.
The Arukeist locks eyes with me. His face stays neutral, but those eyes… he really doesn’t like me. I guess that makes sense after I held him at knifepoint and all that.
But that’s kind of where the sense making ends. Why was I brought to an Arukeist chapel? Do they want me to hear a sermon on how murder is bad before they cart me off to prison? Does he want me to hear one and the cops are just going along with it for laughs?
“Sister Ronnie,” he says, prompting the woman to step up to the sheet-covered mystery object. “Please.”
Her delicate hands pinch the fabric and pull off the covering in one swoop.
It’s a board. Upright. Wooden, painted pure white. On it, two, four, six, eight, ten straps, symmetrically placed. White leather, golden buckles.
It’s not a sermon they’re planning.
I’m not staying here. I’m not staying here.
I turn and run, run for the door, into the sea of robed humans. Their arms rise, their hands grab onto me, but I don’t care, I have to get out.
“Move aside!” someone shouts from the audience. All fingers suddenly let go, as if I had a deadly disease --
Pain! Fuck, it hurts! Stop! Stop!
The world has turned on its side. My limbs are thrown around like I was caught in a hurricane - no, four hurricanes, all in different directions.
It stops. My limbs still jitter. I can’t see right. Everything’s a mess. Is something touching me? Am I being dragged? I try to struggle, but I’ve forgotten how to move… some seconds pass, I think, I don’t think I can trust my sense of time right now. I hear speech, muddled, my chest is cold, I can see something, I can feel again… I’m… I’m… I’m on the board!
My jacket is gone, my shirt is open, my chest is exposed… th-they’re really going to do it!
“L-l-let me g-go!” My words come out slurred as I’m still relearning how to pilot my tongue. It’s not helped by the belt is pressing against my larynx. There’s one for my forehead, too, making me unable to turn my head properly. I feel so blind.
“Gods, Yoshito, how hard did you shock him?” someone mutters in the crowd.
Shock. They used a taser. That’s what that hellish pain was. And the guy who did that to me is named Yoshito. I’m going to remember that. I’m going to remember that, and when I ascend, I’m going to --
Oh fuck. I’m not going to ascend. Because I’m here and I’m going to die. I’m going to die! But I can’t die. This is not how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to live forever, I was supposed to bring about the new world, but now, now I’ll die before I can, I’m going to be dead! I’ll never see the Judgment happen, I’ll never see HIM again, I’ll never see my home again, I’ll never see Minty again, I-I’ll never hold him --
“Brothers, sisters!” booms Samson, shattering my deafness to the outside world. His back is to me, his arms raised in the air, the robe’s sleeves resembling wings. “Today, we have seized the beast. Praise be to Arukei!”
“Praise be to Arukei!” echoes the crowd, raising their hands towards the ceiling.
The Arukeist brings his hands to his heart. “But,” he begins with a sorrowful tone, “while this is a joyous occasion for us and the rest of the world, we mustn’t forget the many victims of this monster’s crimes, the innocent lives lost to the ravenous jaws of this horrid creature. May Arukei soothe their souls and guide them to paradise, may he bless and comfort their families. Truly.”
“Truly,” responds the crowd, bowing their heads.
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“Let us have a minute of silence,” declares Samson and bows his head as well. In a snap, all noises cease, all motion freezes, except for my panicking breath and heart.
So they knew? They knew about me all along? They watched me, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for my first and last mistake. And today they noticed such a moment, and they sent in Samson undercover, is that right? All that bullshit about him wanting to help, that was a ruse to get close to me!
And it actually worked… and now they finally have me. And they’re going to kill me. They’re going to cut my heart right out of my chest, I bet! These people want to see me suffer. These people want to drink from the chalice of justice filled with my blood.
Justice… what a drug to the sheep. What a sweet high it gives them to perpetuate their mindless norms and standards, to celebrate the culling of the misfits! They speak of righteousness when they mean conformity!
These pathetic creatures! Crowning each other every day for being so unquestioning! Spitting on the eons nature spent handcrafting them to survive! And here they execute the one meant to thrive, the rightful heir of this world!
If I only had the power… their brains would paint the walls pink...
Itch. Left temple, again. No, now is an even worse time! A-and another, in the lower back? Gods!
My fingers twitch, my biceps tug at the wrists fastened down below... it’s so uncomfortable, but I can’t do shit about it! Couldn’t I at least die without feeling like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under my skin?
The itch spreads. Oh fuck. It’s in my sides, my shoulders, my neck, everywhere. I’m trembling. It’s not getting better. A growl leaves my throat.
“A minute has passed.”
With Samson’s words, it’s like I’m awakened. The itch has released its grasp on me. Blood rushes to my skin freely, relaxing my muscles. Weird, but I’m not complaining.
“Now we may begin.” Samson faces me. Oh shit. Nevermind, I’m complaining.
His glare is full of contempt. “You, Beast! You have done much evil. You have torn innocent women from their lives. Tortured them and desecrated their bodies in unholy rituals for the demon you call your god.”
Demon? Demon?
“Better a demon than a fucking goat!” I snap, but he ignores me.
“Arukei has witnessed your despicable deeds. He has sent us, his loyal followers, to rid this earth of your wickedness.”
My stomach turns. That's how sickening his words are, this whole situation is. I snarl.
“Yet there is something that must be done before that,” Samson continues. “A life that can still be saved.”
My stomach turns again. Wait, no. It’s not nausea. I know this feeling, this distortion. This is...
“Sister Ronnie,” Samson calls. The woman soon walks into my sight. She holds something in her hands, something shiny… something metallic. Samson picks it up. It’s a long-bladed knife. They’re going to… oh fuck, they’re really going to…
The lump in my gut swells. It squeezes my lungs from underneath. It gets harder to breathe - every inhalation stings. From the bottom of my vision, I can see my abdomen bloat, its skin stretch…
A whine arises from within. Something presses onto my insides, squishing my organs to abnormal shapes.
“Stop, stop!” I grit my teeth. How impotent must my digestive fluids be not to have melted this brat to mush by now?
“Do not fear, child,” Samson says, approaching. “You will finally be free.”
He raises the knife, its blade sparkling in the chandeliers’ crystal-reflected light. Oh fuck. This is going to hurt.
“Now lean back, child. I do not want you to get harmed.”
He jams the blade below my ribs. Hot blood spurts out, blinding pain floods my nerves. I scream. It’s deep! It rips even more of me apart, traveling down to my navel, past it, stop!
They pull the metal out. My screaming breaks up into agonized breathing. I feel too bare. Organs aren’t meant to be exposed like this. Too much blood is leaking out.
A small arm slips out of the wound, smeared with blood and stomach contents. Its fingers curl, reaching out for something to grab onto. The sour stench of vomit wrinkles my nose.
Samson offers his hand to the child, undeterred by the goop it's covered in, and she grasps it. He pulls on it, tearing the edges of my wound apart as the rest of her begins to leave my body.
“No… no, no, no…” I can only whimper.
Pink hair appears. I hear a weak gasp. A gasp for fresh air, a gasp of freedom.
But she shouldn’t be free. She doesn't deserve to be free. Curled up inside a cauldron of acid, locked behind bars of bone, that is the fate that belongs to her. She needs to suffer for all the trouble she’s brought me. She needs to be digested.
Another yank, and her brown coat is visible. Another, and her jeans show - another, and she tumbles down onto the floor. I’m so incredibly hollow now. The emptiness is screaming…
All the blood spilt has now dyed the front of Samson’s white robe a sticky crimson. He crouches down and helps mucky little Michi up. I can see her right hand missing two fingers.
She turns around. Her pale blue eyes glare at me, furious but victorious. I respond with an equally furious stare.
Samson steps forward, no doubt to show off his shining armor once more - but is stopped by Michi raising of her arm.
“This is it for you, Wolf,” she says, letting the arm drop. “You're finally going to get what’s been coming to you for years.”
“Get back in,” I breathe, shaking from the pain of my gaping wound. Even with that agony, I want her back, need her back. It feels like she'd even fix it. “You belong in there. You are my prey.”
Michi looks back at Samson, who’s still holding the bloody knife. “I’m done with him. You can get back to your ceremony now.”
She heads for the door. Seeing her back turned to me, seeing her get away… I need to chase her, hunt her down. The instinct is awakened. I need to do what my nature tells me to do…
But no struggling, twitching, flailing is getting me off this board. I can’t get away. I’m forced to watch my prey walk out right in front of me, just meters away from the stomach it should be filling, the thirst it should be quenching. All while my body bleeds out, all while these sheep gawk at my pain, my humiliation, my death…
This can't be how it ends. This can’t all have been for nothing. I didn’t train myself, restrain myself for years to just… die. This can't be how it ends!
But what can I do? I can’t do anything! I’m just a weak little human with flimsy limbs and dull teeth. This body is so pathetic. How can it be so pathetic? I have the mind of a bloodthirsty beast, but the body… where is my rightful body?
The body… the body was there when I ate her.
That body is what made it possible. That body had the teeth and the claws that caught her and the throat that squeezed her down. And that body, where it came from - it was this skin, this disguise, and it must still be there.
I wheeze just a bit. It's a wheeze of laughter.
Michi stops. She looks over her shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just so silly how simple it all really is...”
“Sure, okay.” She resumes her walking.
I focus on my right hand. Its soft flesh, tidy fingernails. Such an adorable little hand. But it’s false.
My fingertips split with ten spurts of blood as curved, needle-sharp talons reveal themselves.
The audience steps back, some members gasping. Samson’s eyes open wide. “The Beast...” he whispers, voice trembling.
Michi has frozen.
“You thought you could make me forget?” I continue. “You thought you could convince me I was just a lowly human?”
She's beginning to fear. I can see it, smell it. For six heartbeats, she stays as silent and still as the rest of the room - then she faces Samson.
“Kill him.”
Samson flinches, as if he’d just now remembered he had the knife. He steps closer. “This is the end, Beast,” he tensely says, raising the knife.
Something aches at the very bottom of my spine. Right on cue. It’ll make for a nice, flashy way to showcase my power.
The vertebrae multiply, extending my spine so rapidly that it tears right through my skin and jeans. The newborn tail rears its tip like a serpent about to strike. The arrow-shaped end glistens with my blood and its own sheer sharpness.
Samson takes a step back like the coward he is, but being a fool as well, stands his ground. Hiding behind the knife, he gathers up the courage for another strike and finally lunges for my heart.
But guess who’s faster.
The wonderful noise of flesh and organs being skewered rings out around the room. Samson’s blue eyes, bulging out of their sockets in shock and pain, flick back and forth between my face and the black appendage inserting into his abdomen.
I can’t help smirking. “Guess those prayers weren’t much help after all.”
I yank back the tail. The tip slices through even more tissue on its way out of the man’s body. He collapses onto his knees, dropping the knife and gasping for air. The crown of his head, covered with his golden hair, points right at me. I guess I should finish him off, make sure he doesn’t sneak up on me later with that knife.
“Hey, goat boy.”
He raises his head, eyes full of terror. With one swift swing of my tail, I slash across his throat. Red fluid gushes out, depriving his brain of the oxygen it needs. He opens his mouth to gasp once more, like a fish on dry land, then falls down on his face, silent. An ever-growing pool of blood forms underneath.
I bring the tip of my tail to my mouth and lick in a bit of the blood. The taste is energizing, appetizing, back to the way it should be. Deep in my throat, new teeth begin to form.
“Father!” screams the red-haired woman as she dashes to Samson’s limp body. It should be obvious he’s dead by now, but still the woman has to flip him over and take a good look at his cleaved neck and empty eyes before she gets the picture.
Finally, she snatches the knife and jolts up. Her green eyes drill into my own with rage. “You bastard!”
Blade raised, she charges at me. She hasn’t learned a thing from her leader’s mistake. I suppose I can use her to test my strength in a different way.
The straps on my right arm loudly snap as the limb yanks itself free. I shove the palm right onto the woman’s face and squeeze. As her skull crackles, she drops the knife and latches onto my hand with her own. Her tugs and scratches are like a little bug’s. Those and her whimpers… so adorable.
With one crushing contraction, her whole head caves in. It crumples like paper, if paper oozed blood and gray matter. Her skull feels like eggshell within my grasp. The yolk drips down to the floor.
I toss her corpse aside. It thumps down right next to Samson’s and no longer moves.
Through my bloodied talons, I glare at the audience. “Does anyone else want to try?”
Frantic steps and cries fill the room. They all race for the door. They think they can run. Cute.
Oh, the itch is back, back in my left forearm. I pull the arm free and raise it in front of my face. Aside from the aura nullification seal carved onto the forearm, nothing seems off about the skin. Whatever’s causing it must be from beneath. Well, let’s find out!
I stick a talon into the skin. It singes, but I no longer need to fear pain. I swipe the claw down regardless. Blood squeezes out, but there’s something else, something black… black fur. Sticking out like grass from a crack in the asphalt.
Oh, I get it… I get it! The body has developed further! It’s been growing within, incubated by my old skin. Now it has its own, and a coat of fur to top it off. Makes sense, wolves have fur. I was personally more of a fan of the skinless version, but perhaps this one leaves less of a mess behind…
More itching. It’s everywhere now. Every inch of skin has hair beneath, wanting to get out. Well, I have no reason to keep it in!
I hook my claws on the edges of my abdominal wound. Fuck, this is going to hurt, but it’s all for the sake of evolution.
I pull the edges apart. The skin tears, splits further, exposing more of the bloody black fur. Every fiber broken screams at me, screams at me to stop, and I scream with them, but all of it comes from a lesser being. To the beast, pain means nothing! The new mouth in my throat already snarls, gnashes its teeth, waiting to get out!
The crowd still panics and stampedes in place. It seems almost all of them are trying to get through the door at the same time, jamming it… of course they are! They’re herd animals! And the rest of the cops are herding them, circling them, keeping them together. Good, good! Keep them gathered up like that! That way I can kill more efficiently! But to take care of personal business first...
“Michi!” I call, voice inhuman, monstrous. Where is she? There, at the edge of the crowd! She glances at me from the sea of robes, eyes sparkling with tears, desperately pushing onto the people blocking her way out. So small, such a runt, such a sweet little snack!
“Look at it!” I roar, spreading my arms wide. “Look at my true body! Remember it well, as after I get you… you’ll only see the inside!”
Oh? The itch has spread to the last place it hasn’t spread yet - my throat. The snout inside is furred now, completed. It’s time for me to pry myself off this board and abandon my human skin once and for all. The hour of the Beast has come.
I grab the sides of the board and push my body forward. The remaining belts, on my forehead, neck and legs, squeak as they’re stretched nearer and nearer to breaking. My remaining human skin is drying up, hardening, crackling. My heart beats faster, louder, stronger! My lungs draw deeper breaths than they're ever drawn before! I’m ready! I’m so ready! I’m doing it, doing it, now!
Rip!
…
...Wh-what?
No heartbeat.
No breathing, either.
My head hasn't moved. The belt is still on my forehead, my viewpoint is the same. The people are still panicking, shoving each other to the direction of the door…
But my arms aren't there. My legs aren't there. Nothing below my neck is there. Where has it all gone?
Black hairs pop into the bottom of my vision. There's something fuzzy there. It rises, grows.
It's a back. Two arms. A neck. A head. All at least twice the size of mine.
It growls, making the earth tremble from the sheer power of the noise. Two growths extend from its skull, reaching for the roof. They curve, sharpen. Horns.
Fast as a thunderbolt, the beast leaps forward, landing right next to the crowd. Before the people can even react, the creature has shoved its horns through a few’s backs, impaling them.
Screaming. Swipes of talons, sinking of teeth, stabbings via tail. The white robes turn red, and the people fall like crops to a scythe.
It's playing out exactly as it should - but without me.
I’ve been left behind.
Oh shit. That means… that means it has my organs. My heart, my lungs. I don’t have anything. I’m only a head. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and nothing can stop it!
How long do I have? How many seconds before consciousness leaves?
Deafening bangs ring out as one of the herding cops has taken out his gun and begun to fire at the beast. Bullets sink into the creature’s flesh, spraying blood, but it doesn’t care. It lunges forth and grabs the cop by his face and throws him across the room like a limp doll before finishing off the last stray human on that side of the room.
On that side of the room. There’s still someone left.
On the opposite wall, a small figure cowers, shivering. She must have snuck there during the commotion. Now she’s creeping along to wall to a better hiding spot, desperately hoping she won’t be noticed.
A dull ache forms in my brain. Oh fuck. There it is. Death. It’s approaching like a stalking predator and I have nowhere to run.
The beast raises its snout towards the ceiling. A long, loud, wailing howl arises from between its sharp teeth. But it cuts it short - the man it had thrown before has gotten back up and fired the taser at it. Not that the beast is in pain or anything. It seems more annoyed. The man takes one last terrified look at the invincible monster before it grabs his head with one hand and tears out his trachea with the other. The beast lets go, and the man collapses on the floor, lifeless or soon to be so.
It doesn’t take even a second before the beast twists its neck around to face me - like an owl, but even faster. Its yellow eyes, bright as a bonfire in the night, burn onto my brain as it stares at me. I know what it’s trying to say. That I’m next.
Michi takes another step. It's still relatively silent, but not silent enough for the beast. Its fiery glare locks onto the girl, who freezes in response. Thank fuck, it's distracted…
But it makes no difference, does it? I’m gonna pass out soon, anyway. I’m lightheaded, the headache’s worsening… it’s all gonna go black any moment now, I’m sure.
The creature lunges for the tiny human, quickly seizing it with its claws. The girl trembles all around as the monster slowly opens its maw. It beast jerks its head forward and chomps down on Michi’s neck. It pulls back, ripping the girl's head off with little effort. Blood shoots out of the stump of a neck and rains down all around. It's like a great, big fountain.
The beast straightens its neck and gulps Michi’s head down whole. The creature may not have an expressive face, but just by looking at it I can tell it’s enjoying the hell out of its meal. But it's not done with her yet. It looks back down at the body, and something slithers out of its mouth. A black, slimy tendril. Joined soon by two others.
Together, the tendrils dive into the severed throat of the girl. They slide deeper and deeper, squishing as they move. The beast has frozen in wait. What is it doing…?
The tendrils stop. They begin reeling back into the beast’s body. I can hear a voice. Muffled. Female. Distressed.
The corpse’s neck widens rapidly. Something's emerging.
A shadowy figure pops out, its red eyes wide with terror at the tendrils wrapped around it. The neck stretches even more until a glimpse of gold arises, then the whole thing is yanked out - the whole thing being Joanna and her mask.
“Stop! Stop!” she screams as the tendrils pull her into the beast’s maw. “He killed me! He killed me!”
The beast ignores her. It draws her to its throat, snaps its jaws shut and swallows.
It turns to me.
My eyes get sore. Black circles my vision. Oh fuck... my time is up. Well, place your bets: which will be my ultimate cause of death, suffocation or mauling?
The beast approaches. Its steps are heavy thumps. It reopens its mouth.
The black framing my vision advances, narrowing my sight to only show the monster ever nearing. Its dozens of teeth, its blinding eyes. They're all I see anymore.
No… I-I don't want this to be the last thing I see. I want to see something… good.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t keep track of the blackness anymore, but what would be the point? Whether slow or fast, it'll still come.
I go back. Back several days, weeks, months, years. I go back to that day when I was at my stepfather’s apartment for the first time, before it burned down. When I met Minty. I’m gonna call him Minty. I’ll never meet a god who could punish me for it again, so why bother sticking to one’s orders.
I think about his meows, the curious twitch of the tip of his tail, his soft white fur, his little paws, his slow blinks. How he liked me immediately, how I gave him a chance, how I became his favorite person.
I’m so sorry, Minty. I gave you away in exchange for immortality… which I then never even got. At least with you, I may have been able to enjoy what little life I had.
I can feel the beast’s breath. Hot and humid. The monster growls, and I think I can even hear its saliva dripping. Death is only moments away, it seems… so let me tell you something.
I’ve never said it to anyone. No one else has ever made me feel it. To you, my best friend, I was too embarrassed to say it. I didn’t think it was worth saying, anyway, as you wouldn’t understand.
Well, here we go. Just three little words. It can’t be that hard.
Minty.
I…