He is an oil spill; toxic and liable to smear tar on all that he comes in contact with. He is the nightmare that haunts ones dreams; the person you hide from, you pray doesn’t find you. He isn’t quite death, but suffering. And he takes pleasure in the fear in the others eyes.
“ What’s wrong, what’s with that look in your eyes? Ha—hahaha! Oh man, what a riot! You must be so scared right now, come on; you can admit it; you don’t have to hide your feelings— “
The knife finds it’s mark, lodging into the soft part of his shoulder. Pain mixed with subtle rage runs through his veins. The man pauses in his advance, seemingly stunned by the attack—
“ Come now, come now! Running with scissors, are we? “
The blade ripped from his shoulder, a grunt the only indication of his agony. Blood blackens his coat now, the slick substance coating the blade. A laugh, low and furious, makes itself known. The sound of a madman.
Inhuman. This thing has no right to be referred to with terms reserved for people like himself, breath hitching when the reaction is the opposite of the predicted. Who... Who the hell laughs when a knife embeds itself into their shoulder?!
The option to admit is fear is null, already feeling degraded enough by his split-second choice to throw his only form of defense. Ah, how absolutely foolish of him.
Heart lodges itself in his throat, feet shuffling further backwards. This can’t be the way he goes out. Not by the hands of a man thing that would think nothing of murder, one without remorse to stain their thoughts.
The voice of logic draws his attention away from Tetsuya, fingers burying themselves into his palms. One, two, three, four, five...
Heel acting with his adrenaline, he swerves and sprints in the opposite direction, forcing himself to stumble to the sides in case the pistol may hunt him down.
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