Lex
Blood.
So much blood.
It covered her pale skin, turning the creamy color crimson, streaking paths over her curves like snakes. She looked too pale, too thin. Her face was away from the camera so I couldn’t see her face but even her hair looked limp and lifeless.
He was killing her slowly. Her heart would always beat but my little bird was being ripped away, piece by piece, shard by shard. Feather by feather.
She’s strong.
A fighter.
A queen.
But there was only so much she could take.
This seemed like it may be the final straw.
The V carved into her thigh is raw and gaping, the edges of the wound bruised and swollen. He’d cut into her with a blunt knife, the edges of the wound are too rough and jagged for it to be a clean cut. There are bruises littering her skin. Purple and black showing the newer ones and yellowed and green ones showing the old. He’s beating her.
Hurting her.
The need to maim has never been stronger but it’s a cold kind of fury that settles over me in this second.
I’m past being angry. I’m past being uncontrollable.
It’s just a being now.
The updates on Wren have been hammering in a nail for weeks. The frustration of not knowing where she is only adding to the pressure. Eventually I was going to boil over to the point of no return.
My little bird has been crushed. Her wings were breaking.
And I couldn’t find her.I couldn’t find her.
I don’t think in this moment, I just unleash my rage onto the man in front of me. My fists pound into his flesh, his bones and skin breaking with each slam of my fist. I feel my own skin break from the hits, but I don’t feel the pain, just the warm blood of his and mine mingling together as I kill him with my fists.
When his body sags unconsciously I still don’t stop. Not until his chest stops moving and my skin is slick with his life essence.
I was close.
I knew I was.
I was coming little bird. I was.
She just needed to hold out a little longer. Stay strong a few more days.
My fist slams into the man’s face beneath me, my knuckles raw and bloody but it’s nothing compared to the mess in front of me. The images tear through my mind and a scream unleashes from my throat as I slam my fist down again, what was left of him breaking under my rage.
Ryker drags me away from the body when his face no longer resembles a face, just bloodied pulp and I breathe heavy, clenching and unclenching my fists. I don’t feel better.
He’s permanently markedmywoman with his initials. The large V on her thigh will never go away, a constant reminder of how I fucked up.
The streets of the city were turning to chaos. To ruin.
This war was getting bigger and bigger each day, so much blood has been spilled in the last few weeks than it has in years.
Not even the rain can wash away the damage.