The Slaughter

The door in front of me is dark red. My hand reaches out to push the door open. I walk knowingly into the slaughter. Despite what I have been told, I stare into the face of my enemy. I fell victim to the slaughter already, I must not let it happen again.

In the darkness I feel my hands rip away from my body; the act is slow. My eyes are greeted by hot iron rods the push to the back of my skull before sliding out the back, taking what were once my eyes with them.

I should be dead from the amount of blood that I now lay in. The blood that I lay in.

'Not tonight, not tonight'
'If not tonight, then tomorrow'
'I don't want this anymore'
'You say that, but here you are again, falling down in front of me'
'...'

The slaughter will no longer be on my account.

'Come at me, I have the opportunity'
'This is not wise'
'The edges of your fingers will no longer dictate my nights. Come at me'

Sight is restored, hands rejoined, and blood is back in it's proper body.

I am armed with a sword from the heavens.
I will be the one to fight the slaughter.