[Blood Diary Entry]
The world blurred past me. In a single instant, I was upon the man. My claws poised to strike, fangs bared in a snarl.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
A pained screech.
I roared in rage.
I struck. Again, and again.
I could barely see, barely understand what was happening.
I was just so…
Angry.
Each time I swung, blood splattered, and pained groans echoed.
I wanted more.
He should suffer more.
I cocked one of my legs back. My muscles tightened, painfully so.
Then I kicked. My own leg blurred past my vision. The man flew with an expression of contorted agony. Blood drenching my face. Warm and viscous. A bitter smell assaulted my nostrils.
I followed him as his body flew away and hit a garbage dumpster.
For as much as I wanted him to suffer… Mom was running out of time.
I lunged again.
This time, he reacted.
With a panicked expression, he twisted his body like a slithering snake. My clawed hand tore air, and only air.
He steadied his footing, and one of his hands lashed out.
My clothes were torn, and so was my flesh. His hands made their way through skin and muscle alike, until he grasped a couple of my ribs, and yanked them out. A wet crunch split through my torso. Something inside me shifted wrong—too wrong—before pain roared up my spine. I saw white bones stained in the red of my own blood.
A moment later, he stabbed the bones in my neck.
I howled in agony.
The sound seemed to stun him for a second.
I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it into the ground, cracking the cement as well as his skull.
I took a step back. My vision spinning softly. My thoughts jumbled together.
I grabbed the bones and yanked them out. A gush of blood now flowed freely from the wound.
I looked back at the man—who by now had already gotten up—his panicked expression now gained a new shade, one of twisted satisfaction.
I snarled and I growled.
I dashed forward, my body close to the ground.
The man seemed to think I was going for the legs because he tried jumping over me.
Big mistake.
And I punished him for it.
My claws flashed upwards, tearing flesh and bone alike.
He screamed in pain.
But before he could be thrown further away, I grabbed one of his ankles, twisted my body around, and slammed him to the ground with all the strength I had.
That seemed to do the trick, as I heard what I assumed to be his skull and spine snapping.
I approached him in slow, measured steps. Crouching down, I grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him towards me.
I roared in his ears, I saw and heard his tympanums explode.
Then I slammed his head to the ground. Then I slammed again. Again. Again, and again.
The ground shuddered under the blows. Warm, slipping matter coated my hands.
I kept smashing it until I had nothing more to hold onto. By then, I just started punching the ground where the remains of his head marred the asphalt.
After I felt satisfied, I backed away, huffing and puffing for air, my lungs burned. My head felt light from blood loss. I had difficulty keeping my thoughts straight.
I looked upwards.
The moon stood there, completely still.
A silent watcher of a show of carnage and gore.
I roared again.
This time it was a sound of grief, victory, and pain—all blended into a unique symphony.
The moment I stopped roaring, I felt a prickle in the back of my neck. My head turned violently, the wound on my neck that had started to close opened again, and blood gushed from it.
My gaze went towards an intersection, where this alley joined another. But I found nothing there. It was just as empty as it was before this nightmare began.
Though I swear I felt someone or something watching me from the darkness. Something ancient in me snarled at the unseen eyes.
My ear twitched.
That same weak and faint heartbeat. But the pause between beats grew longer and longer by the second.
I turned in despair.
Heart at the back of my throat.
I approached my mother's body.
Hands trembling. Breath caught. Cold sweat dripping from my back.
The world felt lonelier, emptier.
My hand wrapped around her shoulder, and I turned her towards me.
Pain overwhelmed me. Though not physical, it hurt just as much as when my ribs were ripped off of me—if not even more.
On my mother's chest a hole the size of a fist. Blood seeping from it. I could see one of her lungs, the organ was entirely obliterated, which left her with only one to supply air to her whole body—and in this weakened state, it was proving to not be enough.
Tears flowed down my eyes when I saw her wounded heart.
The attack had missed it, but managed to graze it, puncturing and ripping arteries. Hence, her ridiculous blood loss.
I wouldn't have enough time to wait for an ambulance, nor could I carry her to the hospital. Even if I had the speed to do it, the trauma would only kill her faster.
I choked a whimper and a loud sob.
It hurt so much seeing her like this. The color was visibly draining from her skin.
I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose her.
Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.Idon'twanttoloseher.
My mind was spiraling out of control.
Until I felt a soft hand caress my cheek.
I looked up in surprise.
Mom was looking at me with a gentle smile. It told me 'everything is going to be okay'.
I wanted to believe it. Desperately.
I grabbed her hand with mine, and she yelped in pain. Only then did I realize my claws were still out—that I still looked like a monster.
My eyes widened in panic. What if Mother got scared of me? What if I disgusted her?
I swallowed dryly.
"I'm so glad…" Confusion enveloped me… I could understand scared, disgusted, even repulsed—but glad? "That you are safe-" She coughed blood, my heart dropped to my stomach. "That's all that matters."
"Mom…"
"I'm so sorry, honey, but I don't think Mom's going to make it…" She let out a pained exhale.
"Don't say that-" The words didn't come to me, everything was happening so fast, I couldn't keep up with it. "You are going to get better, Mom, you'll get to tease my new sharp teeth, and everything is going to be all right." I grasped her hand with a stronger grip—even now, she didn't stop caressing my cheek. "This is just a nightmare…"
I no longer could stop myself, and sobs and ugly crying escaped my lips.
"Please, Mom…" My voice broke. "I can't do this without you…"
"Of course you can," her voice was so weak I could barely call it a whisper. "You are my smart boy, you can do everything you put your heart into. After all, you are a Salvatore."
I looked at her. My vision was blurring from the sheer amount of tears that were flowing out of my eyes.
Then I started growling and snarling.
I could see Mother's expression growing worried through the fog of tears.
But my mind was elsewhere.
I felt indignation, resentment, and frustration.
Was I going to let my mother be taken from me like this? Was I going to let her bleed out and die in this dark corner? Was I going to allow someone I cared for to be ripped away by some no-name aberration?
No…
NO!
My instincts screamed at me. They directed me.
I looked at my mother, filled with the resolve to save her.
She smiled lovingly, mistakenly assuming I steeled myself to push forward in a world without her.
But that's not going to happen.
Because without her, there is no world. She IS my world.
I brought my wrist close to my lips.
I growled again.
And then I bit down. My sharp teeth pressed down on my flesh. Warm blood seeped into my mouth. My blood.
The pain was overwhelming, it made me want to scream, to flinch, to do anything. But I held on—the wounds I suffered earlier hurt way more, so it was manageable.
Mother looked at me with a confused and worried expression.
I pulled away. My blood flowed down, straight into her wound. A torrent of crimson liquid filled her open chest.
I heard Mom gasp in pain, fainting soon after.
My heart hammered—hope and terror strangling each other in my chest—as the wound twitched and slowly knit itself together.
I picked her up and tried to get on my feet. My legs wobbled, I had barely enough strength to stand, let alone move.
Still, I gritted my teeth and pushed forward, one step after the other.
I dragged myself through streets and alleys, I climbed familiar rows of stairs—and I collapsed on a familiar floor.