Cute Poison 2

A sad, bonewhite moon shone down on me, accompanied by a cold, wet spring breeze. A fitting cold night, just like my mood was. I was walking down a silent, dark street surrounded by big, old trees, freezing like hell in my shirt and the linen trousers - that was all the clothing I had had when I had fled my "home" before. No shoes, no Bag, nothing but this black hooker outfit.
The memory of my parting haunted me just as much as the pain in my right Hand did - since I was short a thumb and bleeding somewhat ugly, I wasn't surprised by the intensity of vertigo and sickness that kept me stumbling.
I didn't want to fall to the ground. I knew that I wouldn't stand up again, and I knew that they would find me if I didn't keep moving, but it was hard, oh, so hard. A loud, thrumming silence made my head spin and ate away the sounds of the night, made me salivate, stumble, shiver and blink confused. It seemed as if my heartbeat and my pulse were filling my whole skull with pressure, killing every thought with their heavy thuds.
Three Miles the streetsign had proclaimed. I didn't have a watch to check how long I had walked already, but it felt like hours and hours - still, no citylights to lighten the horizon, no cars to hear, no houses to see. Had I passed some crossing and not realized? Missed another sign? Was I walking right into death?
Well, since the bloody stump on my right hand still spat blood without cease, I actually was walking into death. A memory drilled through the pulsating silence in my head, and made me laugh. "Do you really prefer dying alone to being held captive here with me?" he had asked. Then we had had a good, intense fight, and a break-up. He would find my bloody, dead thumb on the kitchen table when he awoke tomorrow, and went downstairs to find me. Guess that was a clear enough answer.

Of course I hadn't amputated my thumb just to make some gruesome point. A ring around that thumb had been my leash, a gadget to keep me from leaving the military basis, like you keep a dog on your property to scare off scavengers. It had done really wierd things to me as soon as I passed the big metal door in the wall around the "garden". Since I really, really had wanted to leave, I had cut it off. Had I done more extreme things? Yes. More painful things? No.
Had I known how unbelieveably painful that simple act could get, I would have tried to cut the ring off first. But what can I say? I'm a damaged soul, and I was very, very angry.

The world went black for a moment, and I tumbled forward like a robot that has been switched off in mid-motion. My arteries burned from the blood loss, my heart fighting to pump blood that wasn't there anymore, my breathing getting laboured. Still, I had to smile. This was better. So much better than being jailbait for two grown, crazed vampires that either tried to kill each other, or to fuck me until i bled like a spitted sow.
I closed my eyes, taking one last, heavy breath. In the second I lost conciousness I thought I heard the sound of a car nearing. Ah, black-humored fate, how you made me laugh.