The shattered, shaved glass rested on the floor. The light showed articulated waves between the sharp glistening accents. His breast heaved. Sliding to the floor with a final thump, the undulating shards crested and settled in a new mosaic. Dark hair clumped and tangled, the sheen of his skin beneath a short forest of stubble that covered his lip, chin and cheeks.
Through a haze of gray and red, there was an outline. A shadow of person. Still but shaking, almost vibrating in fear and adrenaline. Something wet dripped onto the floor with a splot. Less a drip then a wet thud that echoed through his throbbing mind. He assumed it came from the end of the implement in the shadow’s hand. A bat? No? A poker? Maybe. Golf club, crowbar? Does it matter?
Speaking of matter, what was that on the floor in front of him? Completely unfamiliar but still familiar in a tv fantasy kind of way. Fear of his own understanding left him questioning the bits of gray meat laying in his field of vision. Worse was the rat that came and picked each piece and all but swallowed it whole. He could do nothing but hope it would not see him next.
The shadow let out a short, sharp exhaust of air, dropped the implement and backed out of the room. Left to his own devices with the hungry rat he could nothing but ponder his situation. The small lake of black he was lying in seemed to have an ever moving shoreline. As they moved back from his waning focus of vision the one thought kept rolling through what was left of his mind:
ShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitch ShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitch ShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitch ShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitchShouldakilledthebitch
He knew this was a stupid last thought. All he could do now was hope there really was no God. Slipping into the great nothing seemed far superior to whatever hell may await. And he knew hell it would be. All well deserved if it is meant to be.
The rat had finished whatever pieces of gray it could find and took a drink from the lake. It’s short, sharp tongue darting in and out of the thick liquid, pulling drops, black or red into its ugly, toothed mouth. It saw the lump ahead and chose to have a look.
As the rat grew in his field of vision, the wish for death was great notwithstanding the fear of what might come after. The growing hairy,ugly thing in his view, sniffing, stirring, ready to bolt. Little he could do, he couldn’t even close his eyelid. The fear grew as it grew. A monolithic snout clouded his everything.
He couldn’t even scream as his vision went black with the sound of a great, wet ripping. He’d find out in time if this was his hell or if there was more horror to come. Until then he cried in his mind. The thought still rolling around what was left of his mind.