Chapter 15. Urge to Destroy
I swung my axe again, tearing off his other leg in a spray of crimson. The edge sliced through flesh, tendon, and bone with the ease of a butcher's blade. Another blood-curdling scream erupted from his throat—raw, agonizing, delicious.
But I couldn't care less.
I was high.
The rush of dopamine surging through my veins made me feel invincible. Every beat of my heart pumped euphoria into my brain. My smile widened, my breaths deepened. I was bathing in chaos, and it felt divine.
Blood poured out of the fresh stump like a river escaping a shattered dam. His flesh flapped and dangled from his body like the sagging peel of an overripe fruit. Strips of skin hung loose, flapping slightly with every twitch.
Even his nerves were exposed now—thin, twitching strands resembling frayed wires caught in a storm.
He lay limp. Foam pooled at the edges of his mouth, mixed with blood, spit, and mucus. His eyes rolled back. His breathing slowed. Maybe he's dead, I thought briefly.
But the moment that thought entered my mind, he stirred.
A violent cough wracked his mangled body. Blood sprayed from his lips as he fought to lift his head. His half-lidded eyes glared at me, burning with bloodshot fury and reluctant survival.
His lips quivered, struggling to form words, but I crouched down first—placing the soaked, glistening edge of my axe just above his mouth.
Then... Tap. Tap. Tap.