To Both Slaughter and Revive
by Cailey Tarriane
I step over his lean, lifeless form. His heart will regain its beat and thrive if I stay in this office for any longer. No thanks. Before he could have a chance of waking up, I dash to the hallways. I scan the corridor with my head like a robot. Screams will undoubtedly break out soon.
“What’s the rush?” My sister calmly approaches me and asks.
All I can think about is how her gaudy green blazer will contrast perfectly with the color of blood. My heartbeat dovetails in my throat; I can feel it tighten as I clench my fists.
“Please leave. You must depart right away.” A sensation flew from my fingertips. Funny how you can arrive too late for a predicament when the result was long expected. Her attire is instantly drenched in sticky, ketchup-like water. Damn it.
Green does go well with red. Crimson red. There is hardly any time for her eyes to broaden before she sags forward. Slipping out of her bloody pockets is a knife, and now it’s my turn to widen my eyes. Where did she get it from?
My legs jitter and crouch to inspect its blade. The sharpness entices me; I’m almost tempted to hug it and taste the flavor of life as it slips away. Maybe if it embraces me back, my body will loosen up and my throat can swallow normally again.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself to toy with it, just for a little while. A girl can have fun. Before this hallway explodes in ruthless cries, that is. My fingertips come close to consuming the knife and its fringes.
For a moment, my hands almost feel human.
I juggle my toy as it dances around my feverish fingers, but suddenly, a notion stops me. I return the knife to its fallen owner because I can no longer play with such a humane weapon. Not when my sister has only been gone for a precious minute, slain, but holding on, and as it turns out, pocketing vengeance for me all along. Literally pocketing. Vengeance that was packaged in a small, sharp-edged object. If I die from its blade, then who will wake her up?
“What’s the rush?” My sister calmly approaches me and asks.
All I can think about is how her gaudy green blazer will contrast perfectly with the color of blood. My heartbeat dovetails in my throat; I can feel it tighten as I clench my fists.
“Please leave. You must depart right away.” A sensation flew from my fingertips. Funny how you can arrive too late for a predicament when the result was long expected. Her attire is instantly drenched in sticky, ketchup-like water. Damn it.
Green does go well with red. Crimson red. There is hardly any time for her eyes to broaden before she sags forward. Slipping out of her bloody pockets is a knife, and now it’s my turn to widen my eyes. Where did she get it from?
My legs jitter and crouch to inspect its blade. The sharpness entices me; I’m almost tempted to hug it and taste the flavor of life as it slips away. Maybe if it embraces me back, my body will loosen up and my throat can swallow normally again.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself to toy with it, just for a little while. A girl can have fun. Before this hallway explodes in ruthless cries, that is. My fingertips come close to consuming the knife and its fringes.
For a moment, my hands almost feel human.
I juggle my toy as it dances around my feverish fingers, but suddenly, a notion stops me. I return the knife to its fallen owner because I can no longer play with such a humane weapon. Not when my sister has only been gone for a precious minute, slain, but holding on, and as it turns out, pocketing vengeance for me all along. Literally pocketing. Vengeance that was packaged in a small, sharp-edged object. If I die from its blade, then who will wake her up?
Cailey Tarriane (she/her) is an avid reader, poet, and writer of everything that stills the shaking of her miserable heart. She has poetry published in Your Fire Magazine, Gypsophila zine, and Fairfield Scribes, among others. She is a columnist, staff writer, and/or podcast host for The Incandescent Review, Spiritus Mundi Review, the Trailblazer Review, and the Elpsis mag. She has written over four novels to share with the world once they've reached peak misery.