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V. Visions

He was covered in blood.

A lump began to grow in the back of his throat and he could feel the nauseating tendrils of it reaching down into his guts.

He shambled over to the window to remove the black trash bag and allow some more of the sick golden hue into the room. His first step nearly caused him to collapse onto the dust covered tile.

His feet were torn and still bleeding.

Though it hurt, seeing the blood was something of a relief. As he mixed a hop and tip-toe over to the window, he saw in the setting sun that he also had a few scrapes on his arms. Maybe he had cut himself running away? He couldn't remember what happened after leaving the apartment. Maybe fight or flight had just completely taken over? He honestly didn't know.

His clothes were gone, and so was Mary.

The clothes were something he could replace easily, but the thought of never seeing that beady eyed rodent again filled him with relief.

“That wasn't very nice,“ the voice said in his head. The dread inside him instantly returned, but it was muted, more distant than how it had felt before.

The voice did not say anything else, but he felt pulled out of the small office where he had awoken and found himself retracing his own bloody footprints deeper into the dark building.

It must have been a trick of the light working with the thick dust piled on the floor, but it almost looked as if his footsteps were becoming less human with every step he followed. Looking back, they were perfectly normal with spots of blood still clinging to ancient dust on the floor. But the other tracks had started to morph, and here they were longer?

At the end, it almost looked like claws…

Memories, or maybe they were just intrusive thoughts, shook his being as he saw flesh being rent from bone, and it was with his own hands. Hands with knife-like claws on the end doing the butcher's work.

The vision ended with him seeing his own glowing red eyes looking directly at him.

The vision had caused him to nearly stumble through the entryway. He had still been following the breadcrumbs of his own bloody prints, and now as he sat shaken on the floor of a small closet. The sight before him was the strangest of the day.

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