They always say that when the anger comes you see red. She assumed that meant that your vision went, everything masked behind a veil of red. It doesn’t quite work like that though. She’s angry, sure. Fucking furious. Can hardly contain her trembling hands in her pockets. She’s so angry she can’t stop moving. But the only red she sees is the blood.
So much of it.
She paces the room because she has no outlet for her rage. She screams until her throat closes up and she thinks she might vomit. Then she screams some more. She punches the wall until her knuckles bleed and the sight of the blood makes her feel sick all over again.
The room is clean. This one at least. The one next door is where all the red is. She can still see it if she closes her eyes. Burned on her eyelids, the blood and the body.
Not the body. Cameron. Cameron is not a body. Cameron is a friend. A beloved friend who is now dead. Cameron will never be just a body.
Cameron’s probably been moved now. The room may be being hosed down as she paces and punches and screams. If she stops for even one second she thinks she might collapse and never get up again. She paces because she cannot let herself get swallowed by grief.
She will grieve. She will curl up and sob until her lungs hurt, but now is not the time. Her anger fuels her, keeps her moving for hours on end. Waiting.
She waits for the door to open. It has to open eventually and when it does she will be ready. Her fists are clenched and it pulls at the broken, already purpling skin. She doesn’t care.
It feels like days before the door opens, could have been days. There’s no sense of time here. No day or night. She hears the footsteps coming down the hall and she places herself near the door, enough room for it to swing open. She thinks this will be the perfect place from which to attack.
The wounds that were starting to knit together are reopened when she clenches her fist, bracing herself. The door swings open.
She doesn’t strike out.
The breath is beaten out of her in one go.
She can’t move anymore.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
Copyright © 2016 - 2017 10 Minute Tales