A Little Spill of Blood

A girl in her young adult years stalked the darkness. Her hood loomed over her face, as she slunk silently in the black empty streets. Bounding up the side of the building she jumped up, passing the last few rungs of the ladder and flung herself to the opposite side of the building's roof. “Are you there? Yes, of course he is. Why would anyone miss an opportunity for a free woman?” She glared watching her prey: a woman crossing the road laughing and giggling like a child. Tripping up the curb, they chuckled and fell into the building the girl watched from. Waiting a few moments, she slunk back to the ladder and sought out her victim.

The building was old, the walls were crumbling and the wooden frames were rotten in their abandonment. The whole place wafted pungent fumes damp and stale, the kind that burns your nostril hairs upon inhaling.

The girl remembered this place in all its glory. People flourished and queued for miles around to use one of these rooms. The top of the building was used for the rich and the wealthy, while the lower and less extravagant rooms were given to the drunk and the poor wastes who mainly used the rooms for sex and drugs. “Why bring me here?” she muttered disgustingly as she delved deeper and lower into the building. “I remember it being called ‘Brouillard De La Vie’—‘Mist of life’ back in its heyday,” the girl grinned and gave a small chuckle. The further she delved, the more graffiti and the more broken the building got. Thankfully the girl felt the rotting floor quake; listening silently, she noted the location of the sound source, and on light feet, she ran to the room.

“662, very funny. Let’s get this over with,” she muttered; rolling her eyes and readying her weapons, she smashed the door open with ease, splaying wooden splinters everywhere as she yelled out the name of her prey, relishing anger and pain, glaring into the frightened drunken eyes of her victim.

“You! You are a snivelling, evil, scheming rat! How DARE you even consider blaming my family for your family’s death? You knew we were out of town. You KNEW that we would be coming back that day during the hour of the event. Why blame us, huh? I have waited for three whole years to get my own back. To grasp you in my hands…” she began while running and grasping the victim’s throat and placing a long sharp pen knife to the soft skin. Cornering the victim and pinning them to the wall, she continued, “Long have I waited for this moment. The moment of freedom, the moment of proper, decent justice. To regain respect my family rightly deserves. This night shall be your last,” she screamed, tears swelling up as she began to shake.

The other woman in the room began to stop the girl. “Hey Thea! You didn’t say anything about killing someone,” she stuttered, falling backwards into the doorway in fear for her friend.

“Thea please,” the victim spat through tears and terror, “It was the only way...” they continued with the last bit of oxygen they could muster. Thea threw her prey to the floor and stared at them in the moonlight; whipping off the hood, she revealed her face. “Now you get to see my face as you die. It was the only way, like fuck was it! How could you do a thing like that?” she cried anger. Rising again, her fists clenched and were ready to swing, the dagger in one hand and an empty fist in the other. The opposing figure retreated backwards into the dark in fear, holding up one hand they waved and begged for mercy. “You think that I would give you mercy for what you did. You shall pay for your crimes and it will be slow and painful,” she growled, launching into the darkness upon the body of her prey. The other woman began to run from the building, knowing full well that this will not be the last time she saw Thea, and she feared that the next meeting would not be a pleasant one.