End Of The World

Tanned eyelids quickly snapped open, a gasp had uttered from her lips as she nearly didn’t feel like she was in her own skin, jumping slightly at the sudden awakening. Rain Ocampo grumbled slightly, her way of wincing, as the chocolate brunette began to feel at her temples with two tanned slender hands. She couldn’t recollect any memory of what this place was. The walls were a faded white, holding no effort to keep her sane. What the fuck was this place? The dark wooden floor, was slightly damp on the opposite side of the room. Hazel dark-brown eyes followed it’s glance to the overturned oak petite table on the floorboards. A small mess of water could be seen, making the floor damp, as a bit of dead roses played out over onto the ground.

The glass vase smashed. Rain made note to not go near there, unless she wanted to make an obscene amount of noise. Holding her breath, using her courage the Latina slowly began to curl her legs into a squat, finally getting up onto her feet. Finding herself with an outrage of hardly any balance she quickly leaned against the wall. Eyes sight going fuzzy. She was losing it. She felt it. Everything inside of her, stirring up. But then… Rain had discovered the most horrific thing of them all.

A large body lay on the floor. A wound the size of a fist in it’s neck. Rain had smelled the blood, it seemed it was still fresh. The aroma filled her nostrils at a remarkable speed, and that’s when she had noted that she could taste the blood. The once white teeth now stained with disgusting crimson liquid. Was she a murderer? Did she kill him? … that was ridiculous. Who the hell was she? Who was he?

Nodding once to herself, the brunette slowly regained her eye sight, making her way, limping over to the body at the far side of the room. It was so empty. Almost as if someone had planned on using this room for storage. Dark hazel eye rolled back into her head slightly, giving off an angry cynical glare. She had done this. She knew in her heart and soul… but how?

Kneeling slightly onto the ground, black cargo pants making a hint of a wispy noise against the floorboards, as they creaked from her weight. Eyes widening as the dark emerald eyes of the man, who had died with his eyes wide open, quickly glanced at her. And immediately Rain threw her body back, as she slid back against the wall. The body began to sit up, as if dazed and confused.

But all that was returned from it’s mouth was a moan. A low, and hungry moan. Rain’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head as she quickly scrambled to her feet. The thing came for her, arms outstretched, moaning louder now. Going into some sort of fighting stance, the Latina took one step forward, placing one leg back, and immediately lifted the opposite leg, bringing the back leg forward, kicking out so the toe of the steel toed combat boot just barely grazed the material of the man’s shirt, now forcefully kicking at the abdomen, as he went flying back against the wall.

But he kept coming…

Reeling back a slender tanned arm, the brunette gave it a good left hook right in the side of the jaw, blood spurting out all over the place, even though it had already been dripping down the man’s collarbone through the frail cotton shirt. Her eyes widened when it’s head had snapped to the side, but then had snapped right back to where it had been. Not even injuring it.

The head… something told her. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the arm of the thing, gripping on it’s bicep of the upper arm, and curled her fingers around it, clutching it so hard, twisting, then popping it up, completely disconnecting the shoulder, as it moaned once more, now gripping the side of it’s head with one hand, and the side of it’s jaw with the opposite, and twisted the head the wrong way.

Immediately with a sickly snap, the thing dropped to the ground, as Rain looked down at her hands. It had appeared that she had just killed someone…or something… God, she had to get the fuck out of here.

----

Angela Ashford had wondered for years, what it would be like to just be a normal girl again. Without a father that had worked for a blasphemous company, without her ’disability’ or her ’curse’ as one of her friends, Melanie had called it. Jill Valentine spotted the glum look upon the small blonde’s face and frowned slightly.

“Hey, it’s okay…” she smiled faintly, trying to lighten up the mood slightly, checking the ammo in her handgun.

“It’s okay?” Angela asked, frowning, English accent carrying an echo slightly in Jill’s mind.

Jill sighed, she knew she had been nothing but what she was, a soldier. Through and through, true she wasn’t a mother…yet. …sadly, she never had met anyone she would have fallen in love with. Never pursuing a family. But if anything, she wanted children. She always had been very motherly, even as a teenager, and thought of Angie as one of her own.

Too be continued. (Still got writers block, will add more, look for it soon.)