10th January 2022, 05:00 am

  A fist smashes into my jaw, the knuckle duster latching onto the fist of my unknown enemy rips and tears the skin of my cheek. I bite my tongue in my attempt to stop screeching.

  It hurts. It hurts so much. So so much.

  I rip my face out of the punch, the gloved fist jettisoning straight into the flimsy metal wall. Turning towards the one who struck me, blood seeping from the new hole in my skin, I screeched at my opponent.

  "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?"

  The man fighting me was big and burly. Most of any features he had were covered by the riot gear that painted his body. His almost robotic voice, altered by the mask he wore, echoed around the room.

  "You are under arrest for assault and battery. Do Not Resist."

  Fuck do you mean I'm under arrest. My fist clenches the blood stained scalpel. That psychopath had seeped his way into the police and sent them to fuck me. I'm not going to at least attempt to resist being sent back to that lunatic.

  I attempt to stab the man in his throat, attempting to disable him as quick as possible. It fails obviously. He slaps my hand away, almost insulted that I would try it.

  "Do Not Resist"

  I use the force he forced my hand with, swerving on the ball of one of my feet and kicking with the other. My leg strikes the head of the man, slightly stronger than I expected.

  The bones of my leg crack and splinter. The man stumbles a bit. I suppress the pain and strike him again with my scalpel.

  He trades my strike with his burly hands, puncturing my chest. Shattering my ribs.

  "Do Not Resist"

  But I continue my strike, busting into his neck. The scalpel imbedding itself into his skin.

  My grip loosens on my scalpel, I stagger back as he continues his punch into my chest. The pain floods into me, almost unbearable. Blood floods out of my mouth, I start chocking on it when it does.

  The man finishes his punch and I leap into the scalpel on his neck.

  I need this. I need to win.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I clutch the scalpel with my blood soaked hands, driving it further and further into his throat.

  Blood sprayed and a now panicked and desperate man tried tearing me off him, crushing my only other leg and ripping it off. I didn't feel it though. I was revelling in the bliss of my own success. I was winning. Finally, I was winning. And, Oh, was it good.

  I mutilated his throat, stabbing and slicing the flesh until his body grew limp and cold. His blood splattered my crimson claws.

  And as the titan fell, so did my high.

  My emotions returned and with it came the pain.

  The pain of my broken leg.

  The pain of my splintered ribs.

  The pain of my crushed leg.

  The pain returned to me. But one bled stronger than the rest.

  I had killed. It was in self defence but I still killed. Why? I could have just talked to the man but I retaliated and killed him. Who was he? I don't know. I will never know him.

  And the worst part of it. I liked it. No. I loved it. I revelled in the act. It was addicting, a small part of me wanted more. To kill more. To slaughter anyone. Anything.

  But I can't. I can't become like them. Is this what that lunatic wanted for me to become insane like him. I won't be like him. I can't be like him.

  My blood floods out of me, the air around me grows bitterly cold.

  I want to leave. I want to run away, rush home and hide.

  But I can't. My legs are twisted and broken. I can't run. I have to stay here. stay and stew in my own misery.

  I avert my eyes away from the desecrated corpse, trying to ignore my reality. Then I see a man, a man who saw everything. Who saw me brutalize that poor man. Who saw me resist arrest. Who saw me kill.

  My brain snaps back into my old ways.

  I clawed my way towards the man, who eyes tore at me with seething hatred.

  I can't let this end here. I have to beat that psychopath that slaughtered me. That man must be working for them like anyone else. It was his fault he died, not mine. I can't rot in a prison.

  That man needs justice for what that psychopath did to him! I need justice!

  I need justice...

  A bullet imbeds itself in my forehead. Then, it went further and further into my skull. Piecing my brain and severing my connection to the rest of my body.

  The man looked down on me, his face pealing away to show it's bubbling muscles and it's blood stained bones.

  I wanted to shriek. I wanted to flee. I wanted to run up to the boss and beg for mercy.

  I wanted to.

  But I could do none.

  I was...

  …dead.

  [Activating Trait: "Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)"]

  10th January 2022, 03:00 am

  Light flood my cold dead eyes, the rusted metal walls of the warehouse scrape against my back.

  Why?

  Why does life force me into these situations?

  Why does it make me kill to live then leaves me worse then I would be dead?

  Why not kill me?

  Why not let me die?

  The pale, cold moon looks down on me, observing and always watching. Observing what I've done and what I will do.

  Like the many others that have come before and will come after.

  No. No! NO!

  It's not my fault.

  It's his.

  He set me up.

  He forced me to kill.

  He forced me to die over and over.

  I don't know what I'll do after this but I know what I want to do. No, need to do.

  I need to get my revenge.

  I need to avenge the people he's tortured.

  I need to win.

  He needs to repent.

  But first.

  I clutch my scalpel, the blade still stained by that man's blood.

  I need to repent.

  [Activating Trait: "Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)"]