14 [Broadcast Mind]
They didn’t do anything.
Her life was snuffed out, her body left to hang like a tattered flag on a windless day, and they did nothing.
Blood splashed across the stones, soaked into the alleyway, arcing in a wide spray across the walls, and they did nothing.
Her life stolen, her body ruined, her blood left to pool on the ground, left there to be found by a child. An innocent.
Nothing.
Disillusionment swells to anger gives rise to hatred burns into vengeance... but for what?
For their complacency. For her memory. A salve for a pain that cuts deeper than any wound.
He’s exactly where she said he was.
The first shot is to the right shoulder. He howls in pain, but nothing more. Just like them. He does nothing.
The second shot, done with a steady hand and a cool, calm demeanor, takes out his left knee. He won’t be going anywhere, but still nothing. No answers, just pained whimpers and cries.
A third to the left shoulder. Nothing.
A fourth to the right knee. Nothing.
Two more in rapid succession and even if his knees were of use, his feet wouldn’t support his weight from the pain.
Nothing.
The air around him is changed, warped. The oxygen increases until he can’t sit up, dizzy. And then it’s back to normal. A beat... and it’s raised again... then not. Repeatedly, he’s forced to endure low level oxygen poisoning.
And then...
The man’s face distorts. Changes. No more is he the Native from Dismas who was in possession of a necklace, now his countenance is that of another. Long hair. A proud visage. Steel grey eyes.
It burns well. A sharp snapping sound creates short, quick bursts of flame that cause the skin to redden. Clear fluids weep from open blisters. Neither the screams nor the smell of burning flesh is a deterrent.
Changes again. Someone else... never physically encountered, but spoken to in passing. A boyish face, hair about chin length with a little bit of wave at the ends.
It, too, burns. The blisters weep. Fill with blood and water. The flesh peels back...
...and the face changes again. One after another after another, the faces of those who did nothing are burned, blistered, rendered unrecognizable.
And through it all, nothing is forthcoming. No words. No answers.
Nothing.
When it’s over, the scent of blood and charred flesh hangs heavy in the air, an acrid smoke that makes it difficult to breathe. There are no words, just silence. The ground and walls are dyed with crimson splotches, scorched black from flames, and dusted with ash.
What was yours was taken from you, a part of yourself torn away and left to be claimed by the mist. He may not have taken it, but he stood to profit from your loss, and they had done nothing.
They did nothing, so you took it upon yourself to correct their error.
As you walk away from the charred and bloody ruin that had once been human, another part of yourself is forfeit. That part of you that had begun to believe in love and happiness, the part that dared to believe in things such as justice and truth... there’s only a gaping hole where it once was, that part swallowed up by the monster that lurks in the depths.
...and you feel nothing. Numb. Just as lifeless as she was.