Page 15 of The Cute Psycho

Vanya.

She's small... smaller than any child her age should have been. Her clothes are torn at the knees and all around her torso, blood gushing out from open wounds.

Her eyes are bleak as she looks at me, her small lips parted on a silent word.

I freeze as I take a better look at her face, her scar deep and gnarly, her eye almost hanging out of its socket.

"Vanya," I whisper.

She takes a step toward me before falling to her knees, more blood pooling on the floor.

Somehow,thatblood is all I can see or think of. And as one of the people around charges me with a knife, my entire consciousness collapses.

I snap.

I don't know exactly what's happening. It's like I am, but I amnot.

My hand reaches out to grasp the sharp end of the blade. I feel it cutting into my flesh, yet I feelnaught.

I stand up, my eyes glazed with whatever's come over me. It's like there's no more room for logical thought. Everything is sensation... primal instinct.

Twisting the blade around, I wrench it free from his hand, using my fist to send it flying into his neck.

His eyes widen for a moment, but I don't give him any opening. I grab the handle of the knife, pushing it down his torso and cutting into his flesh, relishing the way the skin gives way to the sharpness of the blade, more and more blood pooling down.

It's like I'm an addict and I've finally found my drug, because as I see the red liquid accumulate in buckets on the ground, I can only whisper.

"More."

Two more men charge at me, and I quickly disarm them, using their own knives to end their lives.

Guts, intestines, and organs spill on the ground. And blood... so much blood.

I start laughing maniacally as I gaze upon the flooded asphalt, my only thought to cause a deluge of biblical proportions.

Blood... more blood.

The other guys are quick to flee, but they missed their chance. No, they never had a chance to begin with, because they chose the wrong target... at the wrong time.

Licking my lips, I smirk as I invite them to make a run for it, the need for chase already simmering in my veins, almost as much as the need to draw blood. Like a predator, the desire toearnmy prey is almost as satisfying as finally getting the prey.

My eyes are quick to follow their retreating figures, and then I just run.

Thirst like I'd never known before claws at me, making my heart drum with the intensity of a thousand beats per minute. And in that moment, I know, deep down, that I'm not human anymore.

There's no more reason left behind. Just an all-encompassing urge to kill, maim, and destroy. Bathe in a river of blood.

The guys never stood a chance. One after another, they fall. My hands are haphazardly cutting through their flesh, and when the frustration becomes unbearable, I abandon the weapons in favor of my own hands.

Digging deep into the already wide open body, I wrap my fingers around the ribs, enjoying the way they snap under my strength. The way the organs turn to mush as I push into them, ripping everything apart to shreds.

More...

I don't know who I am anymore as I chase one man after another, turning their bodies into an unrecognizable mess of flesh, blood and bile. But the color is, oh, so alluring, that I can't seem to stop myself.

Even when the last one is down, this intense craving inside of me blooms even more, the need to continue killing almost overwhelming.

My eyes move rapidly around me, gazing past the park and into the streets, where unwitting passersby are walking around. I can almost feel the pulse beneath their skin, and my desire for more blood intensifies.

---