Alive but heartless

Ravens. Ravens of remorse and grief and memories. Chasing after him like he was their prey. Their jet-black pupils were fixed on their target, ready to grab him with their serrated claws and torture him, reprimand him, punish him, for what he had done. They felt no sympathy. Sins are still sins, even if they were a mistake.

His heart throbbed violently as he tried ever so hard to escape this torment, yet to no avail. As he turned his head to look behind him, his legs still pounding the pavement as fast as he could manage, he felt tears sting his eyes; he knew all hope was lost.

In the blink of an eye, he was pinned to the ground by the birds' blades. An agonising affliction reverberated through his body as it cluttered to the ground. The ravens let out a deafeningly wild cry, the like the highest B and C on a piano sounding together dissonantly. It rang through his ears, driving him to the point of insanity. As their sharp claws dug into his flesh in search of the price he would pay, he felt the urge to scream, but gritted his teeth and resisted it. There it was. His heart. They tore it out painfully, and there he lay, alive but heartless.