it's still June.

everything's falling apart, you tell yourself. you feel like screaming your lungs out but the world's not willing to hear it. you're waiting for companionship, someone to walk with you, but no one comes. You tried to dance but ended up staring at the sky, tears started springing uncontrollably out of your eyes; so uncontrolled it felt like the colours were draining out of your eyes. You wrap your hands around your knees, buried your head in between and started sobbing in agony.

you woke up, still dazed from all the crying. you find yourself lying down on the floor, drenched. cold sweats trickled down from your forehead. you looked around, aghast at the sight - there were corpses everywhere. eight or nine of them. you crawled over to the nearest one, all the while trembling in fear; have I done it again? you asked yourself. NO. you assured, I couldn't had.

suddenly a chuckle rang around the room. you stopped dead immediately, your wrist started to ache. It was dark, there were no electricity and the moon wasn't bright enough to light up the place. the hairs on your back and hands stood straight, being victor over gravity.

"how long do you plan to continue your act of murdering?" the same voice barked at you. the voice itself made you fall over, now your shirt well-litted under the moon light. Red. your formally white shirt had red splashes all over. "blood." that voice more clear than ever broke the silence again, this time with a softer tone, accompanied with sadness and pain in it.

your eye lids shot up, eyes opened widely. you knelt on the wooden floor, started clawing at your shirt, tearing it as if you were mad. cuckoo. all the while shouting and sobbing. that voice danced around you, shooting phrases after phrases of what people told you. liar. deceiver. idiot. useless. ugly. witch.

you came to a stop, slamming your palm down. pangs of fear ran down your spine. you came to your feet, then stumbled around the room, often tripping over the corpse, waving your hand around the mild dusty air like a mad person. when had it gotten to this point? you asked yourself, still alert of the surrounding, every sound, every movement was traced.

then your neck was wringed. you turned around in a millisecond, staring up the face of the owner of those voices. only to find ..?