[oom] Flesh and blood
She stayed up too late, staring at the autopsy photos, trying to correlate the forensics with the reports that kept trickling in. She's trying to imagine just what purpose someone had for treating the corpse with such careless disregard.
What did it taste like, I wonder? What did it smell like, the broken bones seeping their marrow on the carpet of leaves, the trickles of blood mixing with the dark loam of the forest floor. Heart and lungs, liver and kidneys. What would it feel like to tear flesh from such a small body?
She shakes her head, trying to clear the morbid thought from her mind. It's nonsense. It's rubbish, is what it is. She can't think rationally when she gets this way. This is what she gets for going to bed hungry, she thinks. Ryan has already gone to bed, and doesn't even awake when she joins him, simply slips an arm around her and pulls her close.
~~~
The scene before her eyes is black and white. Even with her enhanced night vision, the old growth forest is darkest here. It's beautiful and serene, and she can smell the blood on the wind. Something is wounded, something is running from her, and she's chasing it, chasing the intense wash of fear and pain.
Run, little one. Run and let me hear the pounding of your heart. Let me feel the heat of your exertion. I'm coming for you and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Run. Run like the devil is on your heels, because I am. I'm coming for you.
The figure of a man hurls himself through the undergrowth, and she bats at him with one clawed hand, revelling in the sound that's torn from his throat. Bone crunches beneath her hand and she's crashing into the back of him, her muzzle clamping down and giving one good hard shake to snap the neck. Blood washes her mouth and she knows the taste. She knows what horrific thing she has done before she even rolls the body over to look down into his face.
A heart-rending human scream, rage and sorrow and grief, boils up from within her. His eyes look up at her from her fresh killed prey. Richard's green eyes, now gone glassy and cold, stare up at her from his lifeless face.
She screams again.
And again.
And again.
What did it taste like, I wonder? What did it smell like, the broken bones seeping their marrow on the carpet of leaves, the trickles of blood mixing with the dark loam of the forest floor. Heart and lungs, liver and kidneys. What would it feel like to tear flesh from such a small body?
She shakes her head, trying to clear the morbid thought from her mind. It's nonsense. It's rubbish, is what it is. She can't think rationally when she gets this way. This is what she gets for going to bed hungry, she thinks. Ryan has already gone to bed, and doesn't even awake when she joins him, simply slips an arm around her and pulls her close.
~~~
The scene before her eyes is black and white. Even with her enhanced night vision, the old growth forest is darkest here. It's beautiful and serene, and she can smell the blood on the wind. Something is wounded, something is running from her, and she's chasing it, chasing the intense wash of fear and pain.
Run, little one. Run and let me hear the pounding of your heart. Let me feel the heat of your exertion. I'm coming for you and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Run. Run like the devil is on your heels, because I am. I'm coming for you.
The figure of a man hurls himself through the undergrowth, and she bats at him with one clawed hand, revelling in the sound that's torn from his throat. Bone crunches beneath her hand and she's crashing into the back of him, her muzzle clamping down and giving one good hard shake to snap the neck. Blood washes her mouth and she knows the taste. She knows what horrific thing she has done before she even rolls the body over to look down into his face.
A heart-rending human scream, rage and sorrow and grief, boils up from within her. His eyes look up at her from her fresh killed prey. Richard's green eyes, now gone glassy and cold, stare up at her from his lifeless face.
She screams again.
And again.
And again.