Have you ever had that feeling in life, like, you're about to die, and people couldn't be any happier?
Well, that's where I am, at the moment.
Trying to move my hands that were tied up behind my back, I rolled my eyes at the mumbled comments that were being said below.
Finally, they untied my hands.
I rubbed at the burn marks that were left from the rope on my wrists and dropped my hands to my sides.
Not even bothering with the giant - worn out rope that was tied around my neck.
Yup, I was about to be hung.
In front of a crowd of people that were actually excited to see me die.
I glanced over at the guy that had the rope that would make the box beneath my feet drop.
He tugged on it slightly.
The box jerked a bit, causing me to stumble forward, but the rope choked me back into place.
Soon, I wont be able to feel the box beneath my feet.
Soon, the only thing that would be keeping me up is my head.
And they think I wont do anything about it.
"Ya' ready to die, bitch?"
That comment stuck out amongst the crowd.
Truth be told, no.
I wasn't ready.
And with that moment..
One, I met everyone's gazes, they all wore sick grins on their faces. Showing they were anticipated.
No, only I wear disgustingly perfect grins and smirks like that.
Two, I looked beyond worn out.
I wore the blood of multiple other people on my black - torn up tshirt.
And three, with that instant, I no longer felt the box beneath my feet.
A millisecond after, I grabbed a strong grasp onto the rope around my neck to hold me up.
Everyone was too excited and happy to even notice that I was still alive.
I pulled my knife from out of my shirt and cut the rope above my head like melted butter.
Landing perfectly flat on my feet, I was free from death once again.
I jumped onto the nearest persons' shoulders and stabbed my knife into the back of their neck until their limp body collapsed beneath me.
One by one, one after another.
Soon, the crowd got smaller and smaller.
Most of the people laying in a giant pool of each others blood.
While, the odd few managed to get away before I could get to them.
With the ones that got away? They wont know when I'll be there.
Ready to cut into their skin and tear them open.
Now, I was at least two miles from South Park.
I could either hunt down those others..
Or I could wait, and go back home to who ever was waiting for me.
Whether I go home, or not, they will end up in their deathbeds.
Only because of me.