Five

-him

A shot came from the kitchen grazing my bicep. It felt like fire cut at me, my skin seared with a burning sensation. I extended my left arm taking aim, I would not take cover, I would not cowar behind a mortal life. A life I take so easily, a life I digest like small fruits. Even if it's my own;I squeezed the trigger feeling the the 9mm jolt. The bullets cram into the cabinets sending chunks of wood flying everywhere. The lead collided with the kitchens interior, ripping chunks out of it. The officer took cover, sliding to the nearest wall as I followed him with the barrel. I could feel the bullets skim pass my head.

                              Ok let me take cover

I sent a few more shots through the wall he leaned on before over diving over the living room couch. You would think you'd land softly behind the couch as the bullets ripped the sofa apart. But to my surprise the exact opposite. As I went flying I crashed right into the wall, even breaking some of the glass that encased the windows. I quickly shielded myself behind the furniture. Exchanging shots back forth with the officer trying to find my kill shot.

I counted 8 shots

the glock 19 holds 15

7 rounds left

I ascended behind the couch, almost the same time as the cop revealed himself from his cover. I pulled the trigger twice unleashing a burst of ammo that would collide with his chest. His gun went off once sending a bullet through my thigh. The officer hit the kitchen floor, extending his back as his body struggled with the pain. He even began to scream as the blood poured from his mouth. A scream I will never forget, a scream of agony. A scream of pure suffering, a groan that grasped for life.

The bone rattling pain of the gunshot wound created a limp in my walk. The bullet went through completely. Nearly missing my major artery; I staggered over to the injured officer. It's been a while since I felt pain. The actually innocence of being a victim. Of receiving and not delivering . Becoming the prey and not the predator. All pain causes the central nervous system to release endorphins to block pain. Similar to euphoria, a drug like inducement creating a link between pain and pleasure.

   I walked over towards him, watching him convulse, his chest rising repeatedly. Struggling to capture the air in his lungs, the last piece of oxygen that evaporated. I stood over his body , I stared into his horrid eyes. Eyes that begged at me, eyes that pleaded, eyes that clawed at my morality. I aimed the barrel down at his face, letting loose the rabid dogs that were left in the magazine. All five of them eating at his flesh, punching holes into his chest and face; until I was drizzled in blood.

    The officer's face was no more,disfigured . The last of my bullets caved in his chest and face. Making him unrecognizable. His blood began spreading across the kitchen floor like lava. Erupting from the cops oozing corpse. I could feel his blood dripping down my face , I closed my eyes feeling it roll down my cheeks . I slowly licked my lips, tasting another kill. The metal flavor bounced off my taste buds, making my mouth water. This is the drug; I consumed life. I devoured it, absorbed it. Dose after dose, injecting myself. Inserting the needle in my vein; only to feel the ecstasy of life.

I didn't have long before reinforcements arrived; well realistically I had more than enough time. Here's some advice, if your bleeding out on the street hoping the ambulance will arrive. You will die; you have a better chance of driving yourself to the hospital then waiting for proper personnel to arrive on the scene. I glanced towards the stove, an a idea blossomed. I turned the knobs hearing that hissing sound as gas began to fill the room. I quickly slithered pass the lifeless bodies that covered the floor , I reminisced even as I looked towards the wall. The art of blood splatter; the dots of red that were placed on the paint.

There was so much beauty in death

    I strolled into the living room placing the empty pistol in the officers hand. I kneeled beside him, grasping his chin to get a better look at his face. Middle aged man, mid 30s, Caucasian, somewhat slender body style. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as I moved his face around. I think I got it; I stood up straightening my posture as my body began to change. Constructing itself to mimic the dead officers appearance. The process felt easy, natural even. I could feel my bones shift and jerk out of place, the pigmentation of my skin altering. My knuckles crackling as my fingers began to shrink, my legs did so as well decreasing my height. I walked towards the hallway mirror closest to the front door; taking a look at myself.

                   The New Me I Should Say

It was remarkable, a split image of the dead cop that laid awkwardly on the floor. I began to undress myself, everything but my underwear had to come off. I rushed over to the corpse, unbuttoning his shirt. Unzipping his pants as I tried to pull the clothes off of him. Placing the half blood soaked shirt on my shoulders. Quickly jumping in the trousers, I was inhaling gas now it was time to make my leave.

                        It was so hard to depart from something I created.

                              Something I ended

                              Something I destroyed

I lace the shoes the officer had on his feet, making my exit out the front door. I opened the car door, flopping in the seat as I reached for the radio. Rehearsing my lines as if I was an actor. My voice took a while to change, I still had the voice of a young adult. I tried clearing my throat as if mucus was the reason.  To my surprise, it actually worked. I repeated the same phrase over and over again until my voice deepened, I needed to hear the age in my vocal cords, the stress built up over the years. I turned the radio on bringing the walkie talkie towards my face

Officer down, I repeat officer down

Suspect has fled the scene

I repeat suspect has fled the scene

I am in pursuit, stab wound to my left shoulder

Send fire and rescue....