Die A King (Kellic)

Rip You Apart, Leave The Blood On The Razor

It's the little things that eradicate.

A breath, a pulse, a sweat.

It's the lack of time to react.

A harsh grasp, a scream, a bite.

It's the inability to move.

"..tor! Fucking m..."

It's what takes your breath away.

The scream rings loudly. The blood squirts brightly. A hard yank pulls him out of his daze. He can't hear another sound other than the pained cries. He can't erase the look on his face, on Michael's face. He can't tear his eyes away from the scene.

"Victor, fucking hell, move!!!" Anthony screams. But, still. His limbs are too heavy. Victor trips on his own feet as Tony and Jaime pull him away, the living dead groaning and moaning and crawling towards them, the unstoppable need blinding every sense other than the primitive instinct to eat and kill. Victor can't move. His brother is being torn into pieces, is getting eaten alive... Mike's...

He's screaming. It's the most fucking agonizing thing.

He can't look away. Can't look away despite the dead coming closer, can't look away as another decomposed thing comes to his brother, grasping him, teeth sinking onto the flesh of his shoulder. And that skull seems to stare straight onto Victor's soul despite its lack of eyes. 

"Victor!!!" It's Jaime this time. Urging him to leave that scene. Urging him to abandon the irreversibly doomed. Urging him to leave his brother behind. Leave him in pain, bleeding, rotting. Leaving him to become another ruthless decomposed killer until someone, something else comes and kills him yet another time. And Victor's about to go down with him because there's five of them reaching out to the three of them, groaning, skin falling off their bones, jaws going slack, clenching, biting the air. Or maybe not. Maybe there's a merciful god out there because the screaming stops as soon as the gunshot rings throughout. Victor's eyes follow as Mike's head whips back, the bullet going straight between his eyes and its strength pushing his body onto the ground. The decomposed follow along. Not for long, though. Bullets fly throughout, killing the other living dead ones there, their legs buckling beneath, their organs and blood staining the ground, the walls, the air. It's messy. It's yet another characteristic of this world. One of the dead falls atop Victor but he doesn't crumble, he simply pushes it away emotionlessly, stare unwavering.

He's dead.

Michael. Is dead. 

Victor let him die.

He broke his promise. He didn't keep him alive. He broke-

"Now, now, ladies, I know it's bad timing," It's a new person. His voice's high pitched but low enough to be a man. Jamie and Anthony stare at him as if he was a ghost. Fuck, might as well be. Might as fucking well. But not Victor. No. Michael is Victor's ghost. "But when you see a herd of those pieces of shits going towards you, you don't just stand there and stare like fuckin' morons. Just a bit of life advice."

And he winks at the other two. His light eyes flicker to Victor. It's the first time he's ever seen him but he has that look in his eyes. That look. The man glances at the pile of dead bodies — no thanks to him, goddamn! — and only one stands out. The one that screamed like hell. He scrunches his nose.

"My condolences."

Finally, Victor moves. He tilts his head, his eyes flicker. The man's analysing him. He's chewing on something — gum, fucking gum — and he looks... Bored. Victor's face turns from blank to hard. The man blinks.