6 - CRAZED

So, that was love. Now, more than ever, she could judge the chosen ones and the condemned.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds as the woman passed a hot sponge down through her body, and saw them.

She found all the wicked of the city inside her head, and connected them like a spider's web. And then the evil was established. And they would end up with each other.

***

Marcos is sitting at his desk once more in front of his opened notebook, but the pen in his hand isn't creating words. She moves from side to side, by the movements of the man's fingers.

He stares at the whiteness outside the city, trying to make some connection with his story. But he cannot find it. There is no snow there.

The wind hits the glass, now closed, and the noise is good. It's inspiring. He lowers his eyes to the paper and continues from where he left off — about the fat woman in the cave.

He still doesn't understand his feeling about that character and fears her end. He doesn't know yet whether the creature is good or bad. Sometimes, he agrees with her actions, and sometimes, he doesn't.

He sighs, but his hand continues to write. Words seem to flow out automatically of his unconscious — no need to think. Just write.

He doesn't even notice the noises downstairs or the scream's sound outside the house. He is in a trance.

His conscience tells him to lock up the door, and he doesn't even wonder why. Just get up and does it. Then he goes back to the table and continues to write. If he continues in this rhythm, he'll have an end to its creation soon. And he fears the end. Her end, not the others. Does he love her?

His ears don't catch the knocking at the door — an anti-noise bubble to wrap the kid around. The beats continue and then end. Whoever wanted to go in there, gave up.

And now, he's on the street. His mother is crazy just like the other locals. And he doesn't even realize that he'll never see her again. Not with life, nor his body.

***

A war scenario was setting outside of Black Lake's houses, amid the snowstorm white's curtain.

Marcos's mother hurried down the stairs, after trying to open the door to her son's bedroom with her shoulders. She didn't understand why she was so angry, but she wanted to punch him until his face would open in two parts, and see the blood streaming down his face.

But she loved the boy. Why did she want that?

She had no idea. She only knew that from one moment to another, overwhelming anger had taken over his being.

Realizing that she couldn't get the door down, she ran down the stairs, and threw herself out of the house, looking for someone to beat.

And she found several people who were already fighting: some of them dead, and lifeless bodies laid on the ground.

And she came against those who were still standing, with clenched fists and punching.

Her wrists hurt with the force she was punching faces and bodies. Her face hurt with the punches and kicks she was receiving.

The blood was painting the white snow.

Screams echoed through of the insane city's street.

She felt like biting to taste human's flesh and warm blood. So, she opened his fists and mouth and bit.

Others did the same.

Only she survived from that group of her street.

She ran looking for more.

And there was more.

They would fight without even knowing why for a few hours.

Meanwhile, the girl would be supported by the woman at the warm coziness of the house, surrounded by the mantle of love.

"Kill yourself, end your miserable lives; you do not deserve to live," she said to the resident's minds. It was a trick she had learned many years ago. Mind control was one of her weapons from the very beginning of her creation.

And she stayed like that while the town was reduced to a few wild survivors. Anxious for blood and flesh.

And she smiled, but not because of the carnage. She was smiling by the woman's love.