𝟬𝟭 || 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀

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↳ 01 , bloodied hands

warnings : gore, violence, allusions to abuse

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warnings : gore, violence, allusions to abuse

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

❝if you leave me, then I'll be afraid of everything❞

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Staining your skin, the crimson red fluid trickled down your fingertips to your palms, engulfing your hands in a pool of red, as the body of a greying man grew cold beneath your feet. 

That was the first time you killed someone.  Eight years old.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"Psst.  Get ready..." your companion, Elisha, murmured beside you before pausing for a moment.

"Now!" you commanded, leading her to spring into action and bust through a window.

Her contraband 3DMG hooked onto the other side of a room as she glided through with ease, taking a figure who had been standing by the dining table to the ground. 

The target apprehended, you made your move, landing above the body Elisha was pinning to the floor.

"Any last words?" you grinned with a false sense of sweetness, uncovering a pistol from your pocket and aiming it for the space between the man's forehead.

"D-d-don't do this!  Please!  What did I ever do to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there.  Good people don't take what's not theirs, do they?  That's why good people don't end up shot..." you uttered callously, pulling the trigger.

Much to your surprise, no sound came out.  That familiar bang, often followed by a thud or a scream, could not be heard.

"...Zara?" Elisha faced you, keeping her weight pressed upon your enemy.

Inspecting it, you fiddled with the gun in your hands, jiggling the trigger.

"You're a lucky one, Albert.  Or should I call you Bertie, eh, pet?" you murmured, kneeling down to the petrified man, combing a lock of his brown hair through your fingers, pulling it tightly by the ends. 

Then, your empty eyes connected with Elisha's confused ones.

"The mechanism's buggered.  Must be rusted, or stiff, something like that.  Let's get out of here, and take our little friend with us," you began explaining to her and holstered the gun back into your belt. 

Just as you began to tie a thick rope around Albert's paling wrists, a force contacted your neck, knocking you off of your victim and onto the floor instead. 

𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗰𝘁𝘀, 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘀𝗰𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗶𝗻Where stories live. Discover now