I woke up with a pain in my chest, hot and piercing; A stench in my nostrils, decay and rot; Sun in my eyes, blinding with a satisfying pain.
At first I couldn’t move, not a finger. The last moment I’d ever be vulnerable again. Over days, weeks, strength came to me. Slowly, I began to retake my body. It was tedious, but necessary.
During all that free time I thought. I thought extensively on what had occurred and what it means that I’m here now, in an alley behind a dumpster surrounded by long dried blood. There, I was reborn.
Stumbling from that unexpected womb, I struck out with a single word in mind. Revenge.
I felt a tug pulling me in one direction and instinctively, I followed it. I tried to deviate once, but an extreme feeling of wrongness and discomfort overcame me until I began on the invisible path once again.
I trudged through throngs of pedestrians, meandered through currents of cars, and fought through fields and forests. I had to follow this insatiable urge, I knew not whether that path was to destruction or salvation, nor did I care.
A storm came in, creating a fitting atmosphere for my arrival and the events to come. Wind whipped at my torn clothes and tugged on my hair while the rain buffeted my skin, a barrage of icy needles.
I felt the end drawing near, but not death, closure. Of what, I was unsure, however, that didn’t stop the excitement from building within me. By the time I saw the house, I was fit to burst with anticipation.
I sloshed through mud as thick as concrete, nothing would halt my progress this close to my goal. My skeletal legs pumped and gouged scars into the thick, shallow sea. As the distance closed, my strength and will rose. I knocked. My sense of purpose skyrocketed.
The lack of an answer couldn’t damper my mood, I began to climb. I dug my fingers into the bricks of the wall, and kicked in footholds where there were none. I reached the window of a bedroom, it shattered under the graze of my fingers.
I stepped in, throwing mud and pieces of brick across the floor. Power surged through my limbs. Though it was dark with the storm blocking what little light the moon would’ve shown on the situation, I could hardly notice.
I turned to the bed, ready to do what I’ve been waiting so long to do. Those two figures, I knew then what the tug had been pulling me to. My satisfaction, the completion of my unfinished business.
I approached slowly, relishing the opportunity. When I reached the edge of the bed, I froze. I was forced to turn, I had lost all control over myself. Behind me, the air grew cold, a tint of blue drowned the few colors left.
A void grew before me, falling in on itself, yet stretching and molding into a humanoid form. The void ceased its unending motion and great wings of bone and blood flared out from places unseen. Color, or rather tints and shades, poured into the being in front of me.
A black dress accentuating curves, yet radiating grace. A slim face, long dark lashes, eyes a kaleidoscopic mix of hues, icy blue lips against the perfect pale skin to counter the flowing black hair falling over sculpted shoulders.
There’s a reason people say death is beautiful.
“Your journey is over,” she began, “soon, a new one will begin, I felt your pain and the purity of your sense of betrayal. This is your compensation, your gift.”
Though I couldn’t part my lips to answer, my mind flooded with the realization.
“You’ve felt pain unimaginable to most, and for those who do share your pain, you will soothe them. Should you sate your appetite and end the two behind you, I’ll know you’ve taken my offer. Or you may leave, and know some form of peace in sparing the one you once loved. The decision is yours”
She melted before me, her question rang through my head. Though I had regained control over my body, I found myself paralyzed. The implications, peace, or forever granting retribution to those denied and betrayed like I had been?
The decision was easy to make, however, not as easy as my fingers tore through their flesh, and definitely not as easy as following the tug of my new victim afterwards.
