Jaded eyes slant towards their target, narrowing in suspicion. Distrust has addled the mind to a point of no return. Silent accusations fly through the air towards an innocent.

Ruby lips open to speak words of malcontention.

“You promised.”

Victimized eyes try to defend themselves, but their defense fall short of what the accuser wants to hear. People in this advanced a state of paranoia tend to not believe what they do not think they already know. Her rage is building as she begins to advance on her prey, step by step. The prey runs from the predator, but is backed into a corner. All he can do is cower and hope for divine intervention, for none other can save him now.

She stalks what she once loved, allowing no room for retreat. Her eyes, those dreadful eyes full of malice, are bright and wild. Suddenly she stops her advance and crosses her arms. She gives him a cold smile.

“What are you waiting for? Start running.”

He needs no further instructions and bolts down a long corridor. And so the chase continues.

Feet attempt to dart silently through lengthy halls, but she hears every patter. She follows at a slow, relentless pace, manic glee growing at every step. She sings a song of childish games, searching for her trapped one. She looks in every corner and seeks him out in every nook, even doubling back to recheck in case he has eluded her. She darts into one room for an instant; when she reemerges she has something shiny and sharp in her hand. Her hunt resumes.

Meanwhile, the prey runs in zigzags through open doorways, panting. He searches desperately for a way out, but no way is found. He knows his death flies at his heels, here in this horrible, unfamiliar place. All he can do is keep running; all he can do is wait. As he rounds another corner, he comes to a dead end. His eyes move frantically from side to side, looking for a ray of light, for his salvation. No hope shines for him. He is trapped. He turns to run the way he came, but stops dead in his tracks. She stands before him with death in her hands and torture in her eyes. And he knows there will be no escaping this time.

She takes the blade in her left hand and slowly twirls it, being careful not to mar her perfect fingers with broken and bleeding skin. Her eyes do not leave his as she plays with the knife, swinging it from hand to hand. She speaks but once.

“Do you remember what you did to me?”

He keeps his mouth tightly locked, knowing anything that could escape would only make the situation worse.

“No? I didn’t think so.”

She slashes out with the knife, slitting his throat and sending blood over the clean walls. She slashes over and over and over again, savagely cutting his mutilated body into smaller and smaller pieces. With each strike she cries a war cry, meant for the ears of none other than the pitiful creature lying before her. Long after her mind has lost all conscious thoughts of what she is doing, her body continues in the pattern she has set.

The knife has never ceased its movements when the police find her hours later. There isn’t much of a body left by then, but the blood and her wild eyes tell the story. A couple new officers have to step outside and suppress the urge to vomit while others stare in disbelief. One shakes his head and whispers to his partner. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“No,” his partner replies in awed disbelief. “She must really have snapped. I mean, why else would she do that to her dog?”

And as the investigators meticulously bag and label each and every scrap of fur and bone they can find, she continues slashing, all traces of sanity gone, staring vacantly with her suspicious eyes.