Fan Fiction ❯ Band-Aids ❯ Halos ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Sudden overwhelming images of those she murdered...Not in their bloody corpse bodies as she had left them for the maggots to eat away at, but in an angelic, heavenly form. Halos blinded her...Damn that deity who created those anyways...What was their use? To take the vision of those damned lot? Well fuck.

"Fuck all of you. Trying to pull me into remorse. It's not working. I killed you for a reason. I'm not gonna take it back. Damn me forever, and I still won't. Screw you and the Deity you're a slave for!"

Everything went dark again. She breathed heavily in her ghostly form, heartrate flying. It's not like she could die from a heart attack now. It was too late anyways. But it almost made her want to scream to the deities to kill her. She could hear it now...'Come on you bastards! Kill me! Do it! Send me to Hell, bring it on! I'll tie that Satan-bastard up and beat him with a stick! Let's goooooo!' She almost cracks up. Sometimes she could be humorous in the strangest situations. Ah well. Back to business. She walked along this black hole, not really knowing if she was going anywhere...If even going at all. But rather suddenly, something felt like it was pounding mercilessly at her neck. She cries out, clutching at her head, and crouching down. Something was hurting her physical body, in one way or another.

'DAMN! OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUUUUUUUUCK..." A splitting migraine takes over...She shrinks down more, falling foward, hands still holding her aching head.
Abruptly, the space around her fills with a picture. She's looking down upon somebody's mangled, unrecognizable face. And to her own horrifying actualization...It was her's.
She gapes, forgetting completely about her freakass migraine.
Then she quickly cools down, thinking this is probably some bad ridicule on her own death, sent by the slave-driver God. Damn him anyways.
But then, just then, a gloved hand reaches down to turn her physical head sideways, and the pain suddenly erupts again.
But she keeps silent this time, curious at a large crack this person seems to be investigating. Maybe this wasn't some bad joke by Master Slave-driver and his ass-kissing slave crew...
This screen...It shifts to a picture of the investigator's face...
Her eyes grew wider yet, in a rediculous fashion, a look of disbelief painting her face