Ceaseless Cycle

Red. Red like blood. Blood red. Dripping down the walls, spinning, spinning, never stop spinning.

She grabs her cheeks and holds them hostage in her bloody fingers; her nails sliding down like blades. She screams gleefully, laughs, and slaps her legs raw. Her cheeks now have blood marks on them.

Fire. Covered in the fire. Red, bloody fire.

Blood vessels burst open in her legs and blood rushes to the surface of her pale skin. 

“What a great friend!” she screams, banging her fists against the icy cement floor. Red, yellow, and blue bruises appear where her fists hit the ground. 

No answer, and everything is silent. Still. 

Amaline nods and a loud, raspy sound erupts from her cracked lips.

“Didn’t answer me,” she says to the air, turning around. Nobody responds. “Now he shuts up. He spoke every second of the day.”

“He wants me to come...”     

Red walls spin around her, she stands up too quickly for her liking. Her vision gets cloudy and static-like snow blinds her. She stumbles on one leg until her vision returns to normal and she walks toward the door of her room. Her blister-covered feet lead her, she has no control of herself as she nears the door. 

Amaline grimaces, coming close to the door. Her nails claw at her palms, and her hands are curled into fists. 

She passes right through the door. 

The building is silent, the only noise is the sound of cockroaches shuffling on the floor.

Amaline walks down the hallway, lights flickering above her head. Glass shatters with every step she takes, and it acts like confetti, showering over her. Blood draws from where the glass hits and it drips down her face.

Red. Deep red. Everything is red, covered in blood-

The blood drips into Amaline’s mouth and she grins, licking it away. More blood comes, dripping down, on her teeth.

She bangs on every wall, door, and window, waiting for a response. Something.

She turns and sees a small girl staring at her with wide eyes.

Amaline walks towards the girl, her face expressionless, not revealing anything. She advances closer to the girl, walking in small steps.

“Please!” the girl yells, her eyes wide.

Amaline stands in front of the girl.

Snap!

With one hand, she reaches out and snaps her neck in half.

A moan comes out of the girl’s mouth, along with a pool of dark red liquid.

Amaline, still holding the girl’s body and head, stumbles back to her room.

Red is all around. Blood, dripping, dripping, slipping down, more and more.

She forgets.

Bodies and heads surround her in a circle, all with snapped necks and wide eyes.

She sits in the middle of it all, smiling a small, innocent smile. The environment is like a sinister peacefulness.

Her mind is cleared. She forgets.

Every day she laughs her honey-like laugh. Every day, she speaks to people who aren’t there. Every day, she walks toward the door. Every day she grimaces. Every day, glass breaks. Every day another neck is snapped.

She’s trapped. She has no clue.

“Just let me help you!” a man pleads, holding his hands together above his head. He’s on his knees, begging, bartering for his life.

Amaline stops and looks at the man. She walks towards him and bends down to his level. The man stares at her, his eyes wide. His breath catches.

Amaline cocks her head at the man, her expressionless face staring deep into him.

“Please...” a whisper comes from the man’s lips, and he reaches out to brush Amaline’s hair back.

She dodges his touch and kicks him across the room. His back hits the wall, and he coughs up blood.

“Please...” he repeats, his hand on his chest, as if it’s the only thing holding him up. His breaths sound more like wheezes and gasps as he watches Amaline come closer to him.

She grabs him by the throat and drags him to the red room.

Snap!

Dead.

Neck after neck, head after head.

She’s looking for someone, someone who wronged her.

Someone she trusts. They did this to her. But she can’t- she forgives them. She always will. Yet she will always hate them and hate what they did to her. She doesn’t know what to do, because they don’t come back.

Countless bodies piled on top of each other. Filling the red room.

The people who know her die. She has nobody. Nobody who knows her. Slowly, she begins to fade.

Her eyes are gone, now just holes in her head. Huge, gaping holes. Her lips wither away, and soon she doesn’t have a face at all. She’s nothing more than a faceless girl who wanders around the building.

People keep coming. Suicidal, normal, insane, all dead. Heads snap off. Choke to death. Thrown. Concussions. Bleeding inside. Dead.

Blood coats every surface of the room. The floor is covered in bodies.

Yet she doesn’t remember. Everything is gone.

Her feet have blisters from being dragged across the rug floor of the hallway countless times. She’s waiting. Waiting for her lover.

She had awaited his arrival for days, weeks, months, now. Wanting to drag him by the hand down the hallway and ruffle his hair like she did every single day.

Amaline remembered none of it. None of the killing, wandering around, nothing.

In between the three gaping holes in her head, nothing showed. Just pale holes in an albino head.

Even the sight of her makes people scream and beg for mercy. She hates that.

You didn’t give me mercy when you killed me!

She’s torn between forgiving or raging. So she picks the latter option, not wanting to be seen as weak.

“Please, I have-"

Snap!

People plead with her, try everything they can. Bringing her roses, sprinkling her with holy water, cutting her neck off.

Dead. Amaline’s neck grows back almost instantaneously, but the other necks, well... not really.

Neck after neck, head after head.

She sits alone, wallowing in her own loneliness, not knowing she creates it.

Red covers their pale flesh, dripping, down, down never stopping.

She gets more depressed each day, truly believing her lover is gone.

Neck after neck, head after head.

It becomes clearer.

Amaline laughs loudly, the holes in her head wider. Her laughs turn into moans of despair, which turn into screams of agony.

Loneliness fills Amaline to the brim, and she hates it. She hates that feeling. It is devastating, and she knows she has people. They are all around her.

Still laughing, her mouth wide open, she rubs her bloody, dirt-covered hands together, reaches up, and gently places them around her own neck.

Snap!

It doesn’t matter.