He looked at his hands, and there was blood.[1]
His knuckles screamed in protest with agony at each throb, yet his gaze remained fixed on the pulped visage before him—a scene of ruin where a face had once resided, now a grotesque crater of destruction.
The world was red, back then, not now. He remembered it in flashes: each punch he landed, each memory of it, like a monster… No! He was a monster who surrendered to his basic instincts; he had to.
It made him feel so good about himself, but now it left him dazed, stunned, and naked.
He sat above the lifeless body of another man, both in an equal state of nudity. What began as a tender embrace in each other's arms had twisted into a scene of brutal murder.
Richard panicked!
He jumped off the lifeless corpse of his senior, who was just between his hips, and the blood that covered every inch of his front was now felt even deep in his throat.
