User:Doomreaver/A Taste of Insanity

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Icon	Contains depictions of extreme violence.

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I have always enjoyed murder, but since the Change it has become so much more. Now I can taste my victims fear in the air, their agony, their despair. While before I was content with simple murder, now I create a dark Art of death. Art is meant to be shared though…

Apples

As I lay bleeding, I wondered why I did it. In five minutes I was free, or so he claimed. Yet, I did it anyway. The smell did it I think. Just as he intended. The smell of apples. To my equine nose it was maddening. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there, and the trap surrounding them. Shame trying for them got me killed.

Crawling

It isn’t real. I know it isn’t real. He even told me it isn’t real. I try to ignore it, ignore the feeling of something skittering across every inch of my skin. Eventually it’s too much though. I claw at my skin and the pain drowns the feeling, so I claw and I claw and as the lights begin to fade I think “At least I let the spiders out…”

Choices

He made me watch. He made me watch as he drove three people into insanity and death. And then… he let me go. So now I sit here and wonder, did he let me go to remember his sick “Art” for the rest of my life, or did he want to drive me to suicide like the others? I rest the cold barrel of the gun against my temple and for what seems like an eternity I am frozen by indecision. Then I choose.