You stumble out of the woods, the breath in your lungs only a fleeting memory. The first wobbling step you take onto a dark city street makes you feel miles away from where you came. But you’re taken right back as you pass under a flickering street lamp and all of the blood on your person is illuminated. You find yourself sobbing, the salty tears like acid, as your mind fills with horrible, godless images.

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You know you should be walking faster, running even, but you’re just too tired. Your soul is weighed down by the heaviest of burdens you have ever known. Your heart pounds the way you’ve only known it to do in the presence of danger or punishment. But those two things have been your normal for a while now. It’s probably the only normal you will ever know. It’s the last normal they knew. 

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The thought of your friends brings a whole new wave of tears cascading down your cheeks. Your wails are loud in the night.  If you had heard them from another person, you would have been certain they were dying. You almost wish you were dead.

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You wipe at your raw face to clear the tears away, trying to avoid the many cuts that litter your skin, but you stop and get angry at yourself. You use your grimy hand to roughly scrub at your face. Your skin cries ruby tears that pour down your face as its delicate work is destroyed. You clench your crooked teeth through the pain. You should not be worried about such a small pain when they had to go through so much more just for you to be here. They are the only reason you are alive and standing. 

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You walk with your eyes closed, now. You let them flutter shut as you stumble along the street, not caring where your tired feet take you. You closed them hoping that the next time they opened you would be somewhere else. Anywhere else. This is why you fall.

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Gravity forces you down and laughs as you leave the skin of your palms on the pavement. On your hands and knees you stay, the weight of your situation keeping you there. It grows and grows while it eats more of your sanity. It eats greedily and without mercy, just like that thing did. That thing took everything from you without a second thought.

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You scream. A cry escapes you, cutting and stabbing until your throat is raw and begging for aid. Waves of anguish and outrage flow through your body. You need a way to release it. 

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You begin to hit the pavement. You start with slow, echoing knocks that escalate to you pounding your fists bloody. You see no other option and in your ravaged state of mind it is the perfect strategy. 

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It hurts, of course, but it also feels good. You revel in the pain because it leaves you no room to think. All you can do is yowl as you feel. Feel your skin break away from bone, and bone shatter. 

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You pause, only because you hear another break through the tree line as you once did. You don’t need to turn to know who it is, so you keep your blurry gaze to the ground.

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Your pale exposed bone is a stark contrast to the maroon mural you painted on the sidewalk. Its swirls and splatters speak to you. It tells you your entire life story. All your happy moments, your sad moments, but it’s not telling you enough. Something is missing, something crucial. 

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You feel that thing getting closer to you, and that’s when you figure it out. You need to put your entirety into this mural, so it can’t be missing anything.

 

You give it your all, slamming until your skull cracks open.