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Every inhale was a struggle.
Blood dripped heavily from Wenda’s paws, her claws not faring much better as they seemed permanently stuck a dark red. They were so glossy, like the nail polish that Pinki had once applied over them whenever they hung out, memories of cheery sleepovers gone bittersweet, only bringing bile up her throat.
“Oh Pinki..” She mourned, voice watery. Wenda coudn’t be thinking about her friends now – they most likely didn’t even see her as such anymore.
After all,
she is a monster. Monsters have no friends.
The blood from her fur stuck grossly to the wall she slid down against, a desolate, broken-down building holding the full weight that dragged down her shoulders, yet she couldn’t find it within herself to care about grizzly fur or intricate metaphors through the fog of her manic descent. She couldn’t remember the last time her mind had been so clear, no thick hallucinogens getting pumped through her lungs at every breathing chance to forcefully wipe her consciousness clean.
It was so painful.
This path she went down whenever the air wasn’t so red with His influence and thoughts was always so gruelling – sometimes she’d come to with the taste of iron heavy on her tongue and be grateful it was merely from that same muscle instead of one of her friends, after all, chewing on her tongue might leave her voice rough, but anything was better than the former, some side of her desperate to quench the bloodlust that rumbled beneath her veins and shook her bones while the other laid disgusted beyond words.
Her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes unblinking as she shook. Everything about this was so much- Far too much. She was doing so much wrong, injury after injury, fatality after fatality, yet her brain could never clear up enough to let her bring an end to any of it, a threatening pang pounding at her skull whenever she so much as let the idea begin to manifest, contemplation of defying His orders – His laws, – remaining strictly prohibited.
Worst was, with her descending spiral, she always found herself crashing onto the same worry at the end, one person the one she tried to think about least always making it to the forefront of her deranged brain, never able to give the overworked muscle a break. Just like old times. “..Ugh.”
Gray.
If prior to all this she’d considered him a brainworm, now he would be more akin to some sort of leech, leaving her reeling whenever thoughts of him nibbled at her fragile self. Her worry for his safety was so great at times it felt as though it could cut through the madness, yet she knew that was not possible. Nothing ever could.
She wondered if he was fine, how far he had run and if it had been far enough. She had always yearned for him to be so close previously, but now it was so dangerous, a risk she could not take. The thought of laying a single claw on him made her so deathly afraid. Was fear even an emotion someone as horrible as herself could feel anymore? Most now would probably hold her up in the same standards as Black, or well, technically down in that pedestal.
And everybody knew that someone like that would never be afraid of anything, never intimidated or remorseful for doing something as awful as tearing apart all their friends and playing with their rotten, mangled corpses while the rest watched through trembling pupils, stepping back as Wenda approached with a crazed grin, the shadow behind her stretching onto the walls and staring down at the small, gray, trembling mass that could barely walk on already bloodied legs–
“Shut UP! Shut.. up… shut up…” The hissed yelp that left her would’ve definitely echoed if she was in an enclosed space, instead simply left to drift off with the harsh breeze and rustling leaves.
Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes, pupils shrinking with her claws forcing themselves into the skin underneath the dirty fur, the prickles of pain shunning the gruelling images of gore and sinew out. Not toxins, not insanity, not even ancient gods of shadows and sadism could ever bring her true pleasure from fantasies of hurting someone as close to her as Gray.
She would keep him safe, no matter what.
She loved him too much not to.
“You sick.. fucking.. bastard..” There was a sob, and a damp face buried itself onto her knees, finding herself begging for the same poison that got her into this mess to kick back into full strength. At least then her thoughts wouldn’t hunt her, His screaming down at her until she was dumbed down to a ruthless killing machine once more.
It was selfish, but it would be so nice.
A nice she didn’t deserve.
But monsters were selfish already anyway.