The Sharp Scent

The sharp scent of the guy’s lust for blood lingered into my deepest sense. Every drastic friction
of his clothes and shoes as he walk made my every nerve shook like a mad dog shivering with
madness, with insatiable thirst for blood. I hate him. I want to scrape all of his skin. I want to
murder him in every gruesome way as possible.
I continued running and running until I heard it coming, howling with anger.
Come to me baby.
I hit the solid wall. It’s a dead end. But not for me. I turned around and found its face only
inches away from mine. The white yellowish drool was hanging by the corner of his mouth.
No! My body betrayed me! It wasn’t me! I didn’t scream. It was her. It was the girl, the
phantom inside of me. I hate her. I hate her more than I hate him-I mean it! Now I could feel
the chagrining feeling. That feeling I can’t quite describe. That gnawing feeling of bitterness, of
sadness, of guilt, of loneliness, of despair, of anger, of loathe, of disgust towards her.
Now, the monster’s claws had taken a dip into my flowing blood under my skin. The poison! It’s
stinging my bones, my muscles. Why is my head swirling? Did I lose? But wait! The more it
stung, the more I become numb. Ha! There’s no way I’m losing this. The girl had lost but not
me. I won’t die. I won’t be killed. He couldn’t.
I let out a scream.
Now it was me. But a different one. The one with passion, with hope, with faith. I flashed my
yellowing set of teeth before I sink it into its furry neck. The blood tasted like a chocolate that
burst from a piñata. The warm thick fluid filled my hungry mouth. It even overflowed and was
dripping into the floor. It howled again. I slash my hand into the air and I was satisfied when I
heard my palm hit his-I mean its hardened furry face. My palm hurt a little but I didn’t mind. I
had slap him-NO-IT! I let go of its neck before I pushed it away and ran back towards the door.
Going back to the room that started this all. The room which I thought was a safe haven. Which
I thought a place for refuge. It was.
Before he killed her. Before he had eaten her, the girl, the phantom.
I could feel her coming back again. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest. I just
hate her SO much!
It lunged itself towards me. But I was ready. I put my fist in front of me, hoping that it would go
through it’s skull.
Oh dear Lord please.
Wait! No! I didn’t say that! It was her! Believe me. Please.
But its paws had taken took hold of my hand and he pinned me against the floor.
*scream
It was now the dead end for me. Just like what happened to her. Now he’ll do what he had
done to her before. Why not? He had done it before. There’s nothing in the world that would
stop him from doing it. In fact he’s starting doing it now. A cry threatened to leave my mouth
but I bit my lip to make it shut tight. I couldn’t give him the pleasure of admitting of losing. No.
I’m not like her before. I am strong. I wouldn’t close my eyes. I wouldn’t run to the farthest
corner of my mind. I will be here all throughout.
The pain. It’s starting to creep starting from my thighs up to my face. My hands then found its
arms. I clenched around it as hard as I could. I could now feel the warm thick fluid trickling
between my thighs. Inside, she’s sobbing, bawling like a baby.
Shh. Please. Let me have my peace. Let me have me. Let me have my strength. You’re dead.
Please leave me.
But then I saw its eyes gleaming with thirst. There I found my peace. There, underneath those
monstrous eyes were the warm specs of brown. Him. No. The ghost of him.
“PAPA! Please! Stop!”

The sharp scent of my Papa woke me. There, in front of me was his face, bright, full of gentle,
kindness.
“Get up now, my sweet angel,” he said before slipping into his clothes and into his work.
I was left there, tears silently rolling on my cheeks. Numbness obscured the reason of my tears.
But then, I could feel now that chagrining feeling. The feeling of hatred, of loathe towards my
Papa.
I smirked, she, the phantom inside of me, has emerged once again. But I pushed her into the
darkest corner of my brain. The bloodlust inside has once again contained.
Later, he will call me good girl.