As the Blood Runs || 2003-11-11 at 2:44 a.m.
Title: As the Blood RunsVersion: 1, part 1 of 1
Abouts: Total free write. I just had this idea of someone dying in a room and taking out the person responsible, yadda yadda yadda. I don't normally write dark stuff so often :/ The title is horribly bad, but I am feeling uncreative.
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As the blood runs down my face from the gash in my head, I hear him moving around about his lab table. The warm red liquid drips into my open eyes, but even after I close them, I can see him in my head. His starched white lab coat blotched with red, his small, chubby fingers holding a beaker or test tube, his thick, white mustache twitching in thought, and his fat bald head burnt from that cruise he took with his wife and, unknown to his spouse, his mistress.
How he snagged both a wife and a spouse is beyond me.
I loll my head from side to side, knowing it won't be long, but trying to hold on for just a little longer... just long enough to -
"Are you still alive?" He kicks my shoe, and I open my eyes slowly. He stands over me, not exactly towering since he is a rather short man. His face is twisted in an evil sneer, and his eyes seem to twinkle with amusement.
His problem, of course, is that he knows he's won, and he was always a sore winner. As a child he'd been picked on as the nerd, and that made him very angry. Nowadays, he was extremely rich and powerful, so he never passed up an opportunity to gloat.
"If I were in your position..." I pause to catch my breath for a minute, my chest heaving roughly. "I wouldn't be so goddamned chipper."
"My position?!" He roars with laughter, his hands holding his large belly as if it would fly apart otherwise. He glares at me once more before continuing. "My position? Who is the one bleeding to death on the floor of a laboratory? Need I remind you that I am perfectly healthy?"
He was an idiot his whole life. He was also a coward. He hadn't been the one to rough me up, of course, he had someone else to do that. He only saw me after the fight when I escaped with some of my ammunition still on me.
He fails to realize that dying people have no reason to be careful with their well being.
"Any last words?" He chuckles cruelly, crouching down beside me. His stinking body is close to mine, but not close enough.
I speak softly, mumbling nonsense. I keep repeating it over and over, until, finally, he leans in, turning his ear towards my mouth. He is still sneering, of course, making snide comments now and then.
Click.
He looks down at the cuffs I have attatched to us with a look of shock that quickly shifts back to cruel amusement.
"What's this?" He chortles, shaking his head. "You know, I can have these removed quickly once you're dead. I could do it before then, too, but I'd rather be right here with you when you die. Good idea."
"Yeah," I reply, pulling the pin to a grenade in vest and holding it in my hand tightly. His eyes grow wide in intense horror, and he fumbles for the explosive. I grip it tightly and laugh loudly. "I am just full of good ideas."