Delirium Takes Over Me, You're Just Another Casualty
Her coping mechanisms aren't always the best, but at least no one innocent gets hurt.
Characters: Cylas, unnamed other characters, a friend named Emilia
Words: 2085
Content warnings: violence, death
There was snow outside when she woke up. A thin layer, barely deserving of the term “blanket”.
There was snow outside and she was cold.
Yet, she didn’t turn on the heating. It wasn’t that kind of coldness. It was the kind that came with the knowledge that things would stay like this, forever. Not the snow, no, that would melt within the next couple hours. But this emptiness, hidden deep beneath the anger at those who made her like this, the need to take revenge, the grief over what she had lost and longing for what could have been.
She tried to think of her friends’ laughter, the warmth of her sisters’ hug, the way their inside jokes, like a secret only they knew and understood, warmed her. But nothing got through. She felt cold. Frozen.
There was a gentle nudge at her leg and she looked down to see two big, yellow-green eyes look up at her. Cats. Food. Right. She had responsibilities, other living being that relied on her. She knew that if she died and enough time passed, they would eat her body. But she didn’t mind. Better than them starving, and wasn’t consumption its own sign of love, in a way? Becoming one?
Plus, that way she’d serve a purpose even in death.
She wondered if pets who had eaten human meat were put down.
Maybe dying at home wouldn’t be that great after all.
After filling the cats’ food bowls, she went to her wardrobe and pulled a big trash bag from the back. She grabbed a baggy grey sweater that had a few holes and old, washed-out jeans with patches and rough, uneven seams. Simple black leggings underneath, a top, long sleeved shirt. The yellow raincoat with colourful dots and water-repelling pants. Woolen knit hat, leather gloves, scarf. She’d made it herself, after finding glittering, rainbow coloured yarn on offer.
It was cold outside, her breath visible in the air. Proof that she was alive, breathing.
To the right, the road would eventually lead into town. To the left, there’d be nothing for miles. Only woods and nature. Traffic was probably a mess, snow always seemed to hit people unexpected – snow in December, who would have thought? Especially after temperatures had been below freezing in the nights for a while.
For a moment she considered getting into her car, driving up to Devil’s Peak, visiting the hogs, but there she might run into people. People she knew. She didn’t feel like socialising.
So, she walked left.
The snow and slightly frozen grass crunched under her boots and she mentally compared it to the sound of a nose breaking, or crushing bone. Though the layers of clothes combined with her walking did a good job warming her body up, she was still cold. She felt like crying but no tears would come. Maybe she should've stayed home and watched a sad film instead, or called her therapist.
Just then, a car came into view. She didn’t hold out her arm, or signalled in any way that she was looking to hitch a ride. Still, the car stopped, and a middle-aged man asked if she needed help. His wife was looking at her wary, children pressing themselves against the back window to get a glimpse. They were driving towards the town.
She denied, said, she lived close by, they’d pass her cabin just a little down the road. Even suggested some places they could stop for food if they should want to. The man didn’t seem too happy about this but didn’t push. They thanked her and drove on.
The next car came up from behind her, at first only slowing down to drive alongside her. A smell of cigarettes and alcohol hit her as a man rolled down the window and he asked if he could help her. She asked if he’d been drinking. He said no, only his friend, that’s why he was taking him home, and he didn’t seem to be lying. Still, she acted indecisive but the man was insistent. He assured her she didn’t need to worry, he had a teenage daughter and wife, showed off his ring and some pictures.
Fathers always seemed to appear more trustworthy, for some reason she didn’t understand. Didn’t fathers kill their wives and children all the time? Who said his wedding ring and the photographs weren’t as fake as his smile?
She got into the backseat and didn’t miss the predatory glint in his eyes as he watched her through the rear-view mirror. Caught you, it seemed to say. You walked right into my trap.
She took of her hat, scarf, and gloves.
It wasn’t long before he pulled off the main road, onto some path, and she played his game. What was going on, where were they taking her? She knew fear, she knew begging, she knew being so scared she couldn’t move. She had spent so long feeling it that slipping into the role was natural, the sheer panic people like these expected and revelled in fitting her like a second skin.
They stopped at the side of the path and the driver got out of the car, opened her door, and roughly grabbed her arm. He pulled her out and she “stumbled”, looking at him with wide-eyes. He laughed. His friend took a while longer, speech slurred.
If you don’t fight, we won’t have to hurt you, the driver said. Not too much at least. His friend laughed so hard he started coughing.
And it’s not like anyone will come to help you. All the way out here, no one will here you scream.
To show off that he could, he lifted his jacket just enough to show off the gun he was carrying. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she had grabbed the gun and pushed him away from her.
While he was busy trying to process the situation, she checked if the gun was loaded correctly – all the way out here, no one will here you scream – and then shot him right in the groin.
He screamed, but the only response he got was the rustling in the underbrush as startled animals scurried off. His friend, who had found his way around the car, caught a bullet to the knee. Kneecaps are a privilege, not a human right, she repeated what a friend had once said. He just stared at her in bewilderment.
Neither of them had expected this turn of events.
The wind was playing with her hair, the freezing temperature cutting into her cheeks. Her fingers were cold, yet she wasn’t. She felt more alive than she had in a while.
The gun hit the ground with a dull thud and her hands found their place on the handles of her knives like they belonged there. Maybe they did.
The man, former driver, was still writhing in pain, hardly aware of what was going on. The other one had begun crawling away, back towards the road. She watched him for a moment, seemingly indifferent, before walking after him. Rolling him over was easy, she hardly even felt his struggling. The knife he had managed to pull from somewhere quickly ended up on the floor, and then, after some consideration, she stabbed it through his hand and into the forest floor. It was harder than expected cause she’d forgotten that the soil was probably frozen.
She stood back up and he squirmed, crying, begging, calling for help, trying to weakly pull out the knife but unable to withstand the pain. Again, she stood still to think, consider her next move. Depending on how severe the other man’s wound was, he might actually bleed out, and she didn’t want that. Instead, she returned to him and pulled him over to his friend, leaving him to lie on his back right next to the other man.
Her fingers itched and her face felt hot, a blush probably having spread down her neck as well.
She crouched down and straddled the first man, his friend yelling unintelligible gibberish. The body was warm, enough to feel through the clothes – a sharp contrast to the icy coldness of the floor.
Shh, she said, reaching for his face and caressing his cheek gently. It’ll all be over soon.
He begged. He pleaded. Don’t to this you don’t have to do this please they won’t tell anyone just think of his family-
His voice was cut off by a scream as her knife pierced his chest the first time. His friend screamed too.
Again and again and again the blade sunk into his flesh, easily cutting through clothes, skin, muscle. There was so much blood, coating and warming her hands, pooling under her knees. The bushes and trees around her were covered by a dusting of white, but all she saw was red. The man’s screams turned into wet coughs, choked sobs. And then, nothing.
His friend was crying, staring in disbelief and shock – she was surprised he hadn’t thrown up or passed out, many did.
She didn’t even bother standing up, just crawled over to him, assuming the same position. No, he mumbled. Please don’t.
She smiled sweetly, reaching to caress his face as well. He tried to turn his head away, but she grabbed his jaw and held him in place. You won’t let a little bit of blood bother you, will you?
His tears mixed with the blood on his cheeks.
Just relax, honey, she said with a soft, kind voice. You know what’s coming, no need to be afraid.
She didn’t stop until his torso was merely a mass of blood-soaked fabric, bone, and tissue. Then she slit his throat, grabbed a rock from the side of the road, and smashed in his face as well. Repeat on the other body.
When she was done, she was breathing heavy, her arms were shaking and weak, her knees hurt from kneeling so long. It was getting dark already. She wiped her hands with some cleaning wipes and her knives with a piece of fabric – she'd clean them properly at home – before slipping out of her raincoat and wipe it down as well, along with her pants. After getting dressed and putting on her hat, scarf, and gloves again, she started her way home.
Hitching a ride could be risky, once the bodies were found people might report having seen her and picked her up. But then again, the judge hadn’t believed her to almost have beaten a guy to death despite CCTV footage, and the time she had smashed a man’s face into a wall in a pub, the police had straight up refused to even take witness statements, let alone look at videos that had been taken. There was evidence of the officers talking the man into changing his story to him having tripped and fallen into the wall, because there was no way she could hurt anyone, right?
The choice was taken from her when a familiar car pulled up.
“The fuck are you doing walking around here all alone in the dark? You’re gonna get hit doing shit like this!” Emilia said, her red hair glowing like flames in the yellow light of the car. “Get your ass in here, now. And that’s not a question.”
She gave a tired smile. “Got it.”
It was warm inside and smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.
“A bad day?” Emilia half asked, half stated.
“Yeah.”
Emilia sighed. “Wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I’m better now.”
Emilia seemed like she wanted to say more, but decided against it.
She looked over at her friend. “You still selling those apple pie muffins at the bakery?”
“Sure do, people seem to like ‘em.”
“Remind me to come get some in the next couple days.” She said.
Emilia chuckled. “Will do. But you know that Ma’ will probably talk you into getting those chocolate cheesecake muffins as well, right?”
“Guess there’s worse. She’s a lovely person, and I feel like I haven’t visited in ages.”
The car slowed down and Emilie pulled into the driveway. “Be safe. That means, no walking along roads in the middle of the night, and get some food and water inside of you. You look like death.”
She climbed out of the car and threw a smile back over her shoulder. “Love you too.”
Emilia shook her head but returned the smile. “See you around.”
With that, Emilia drove off.
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