Burnout - Green Day

Burnout
Ark Blitz

Author: Petrova

A return to the blank void, though I am not greeted by its soothing silence. My fingers wrap around the handle of the dagger on my belt. I would have had my head down, but I have changed. I glare directly into his eyes, his gaze repulses me, but I must not show weakness.

His voice shakes the ground I walk on, “It seems you have finally gotten over yourself, now you can muster to look me in the eyes.”

“Looking at you continues to disgust me beyond belief, but I know that this will be the last time I need to see you.”

I slide the dagger out of its sheath, his head reflected in the blade.

“I see, come then, come and face me. Maybe then I will finally have my son back!”

A boy appears before him, a dagger in his hand as well. He seems familiar, but only through reminiscing. I would be opposed to killing a child, but not this one. The boy rushes at me, pure hatred in his eyes, but it’s not his own. His strings are obvious, tied tight around his neck. Slashing at me, he wildly flails the blade in my direction. The movement seems random, yet it's incredibly predictable, order masquerading as chaos. Ducking under his desperate attacks, I slice the back of his knee. He topples like a statue when its foundation is removed. I slowly step toward him, his body face first and his legs spread wide open. Winding my leg behind me, I strike him between his thighs. And while he clutches his crotch, I stomp him into the floor, his large nose crumpling. I lift him up by the collar, the blood streaming from his nostrils, some spilling onto my skirt. Looking at the kid is sickening, he reminds me of who I once was. And while his nose continues to spew blood, I shuck the dagger into his chest, slipping it between his ribs.
His blood now fully coats my dagger. Though to me it’s more like red paint, that's all his blood is, paint. I drop him like dead weight as I remove the blade from his body. Yet my rage is unsatiated, for his father is still breathing. He starts to try and run as I move closer towards him, but he stumbles and falls, it’s pathetic. Finally standing over, he attempts to plead for his life.

“T-That was just a test to see what you could do! I-I would never want to hurt you!”

Even now he still is a coward who can’t accept defeat.

“Maybe your son would listen to your bullshit, but I won’t”

Right as he is about to let out another excuse, my dagger pieces his throat. I slide it across his neck until the blade comes out the other side. His blood spills, some drops landing on me when I take my dagger out. It’s beautiful, rage and fear all pouring onto his shirt. This doesn’t feel like the red paint of the child, this has hatred, this has desperation, this has rage. It dyes the void a nice bright pink. And as the bloodied dagger falls from my hand, I finally feel relief. At last, it’s over.