**WARNING. READERS MAY FIND THE SCENES IN THIS CHAPTER A BIT DISTURBING. PLEASE SKIP THE PART IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.**
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*Unknown*
Blood.
That is what I like; the sight of it, the smell of it, the touch of it, and the metallic taste of it when it settles on my tongue.
It is simply beautiful.
It is simply ecstatic.
It excites me when I see a lot of it. It tingles something inside me. It makes my own blood rush inside me like a storm.
And then I want more of it. I want to see the mess. I just cannot help myself.
I sighed.
But people are so weird.
I recalled a past incident.
There was a young rabbit once in my elementary school, which the teachers kept as a pet. It was white and fluffy. It was cute too.
All my friends and classmates were so excited.
We fed it and played with it all the time. In break time, we always hovered around the rabbit.
But soon, I found it so boring. What was so special about that?
It was just an animal.
One day, when I was returning from the bathroom, I saw the rabbit again.
I went over to its side, and he hopped in his small basket, looking at me.
I stared at it for a long time before I poked his belly. At first, he giggled and seemed to enjoy it.
Then I pressed a little harder, and I saw his eyelids tremble. He was whimpering in pain.
I brightened. I suddenly felt so excited.
I kept on poking it, again and again, increasing my pressure every time. The more he looked hurt and backed away in fear, the more I felt giddy with joy.
It gave me a certain sense of satisfaction. So, I started to do it every day. I would sneak out of the class, telling the bathroom excuse to my teacher, and go and play with the little rabbit.
Now, this was something I enjoyed a lot. Then one day, I picked up a small pointed branch of a tree fallen in the playground. I started to poke the rabbit with it.
He cried. And that was such music to my ears. But there was something else that was more fascinating.
Blood.
A thin line of blood was trickling from his belly. The pointed part of the branch pierced his skin, and soon, the pure, white fur of his started to stain with a faint shade of crimson.
The red stain on his spotless white skin looked so beautiful and pretty.
But the rabbit didn't seem to like it.
I wondered why. It made such a lovely color combination.
Red and white.
Then soon, I noticed that he stopped moving. I poked him with the branch again, but he didn't react. His eyes were shut. He wasn't breathing anymore.
I wondered what happened. I thought he must be tired of playing, so I took pity on him and went back to my class.
When the school got over, all my classmates started to cry when they saw the rabbit.
"What happened to the rabbit, teacher?"
One of my other classmates said, crying. "Mommy says that it is blood. When it comes out, you are hurt. I know because I hurt my elbow once. There was blood too then."
The teachers looked tense too. I heard them whisper, "Who could do such a terrible thing? Stabbing the poor creature with a branch and killing it?"
"Who could be so vicious? How will we explain to the children that the rabbit is dead?"
Kill? Dead?
I didn't understand, but I liked the sound of it. It seemed to have a nice ring to it, pleasing to the ears.
"But, the red color looks nice, right?" I blurted out.
Suddenly, the teachers looked at me in horror. "You don't say that, dear. It isn't a nice thing to say."
"Yes. The rabbit is hurt. We shouldn't be happy about it. It's a sad thing."
Then I noticed that my classmates were weirdly looking at me.
"He is hurt and crying. How can you be happy!"
The teachers hurriedly took us away. I sensed that they didn't want us to see it more.
But I realized something that day.
They didn't like it. They thought of blood as something dangerous. They got scared of it.
Suddenly, I felt embarrassed. I thought that I was strange. I was the only one who found the scene to be beautiful, after all.
I instinctively knew not to tell everyone that I did that to the rabbit. I sensed trouble.
I kept quiet and never brought that topic again.
But the scene of that rabbit lying helpless in that basket, blood dripping out of his body, was etched in my mind.
Whenever I used to remember it, I felt such an odd sense of happiness arise in my chest. Again and again, I felt the need to do something similar.
I did.
I secretly started looking for stray puppies and kittens. I played with them too, and every time they would bleed, it made me happier and calmer.
Then as I grew older, I learned different reactions of people to blood.
Some would puke their guts out. Some would even faint. Some would turn their heads away, trying to avoid its sight.
In short, they avoided it like the plague.
And I feel that they are so stupid.
What is so horrifying about blood that one loses consciousness?
People don't like to see blood, but it's flowing in every cell of our bodies from head to toe. That is what keeps us alive.
And that is what kills us when it flows out of us and out of control.
So ironic. How can anyone be disgusted by its sight?
The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I was right.
I wasn't the strange one. The other people were weird.
But even if I realized it, I knew I couldn't be vocal about my thoughts and feelings because the 'other people' were in the majority.
I sighed. It was so troublesome.
But I wondered…
In this whole wide world, was I only the one feeling this way? Did nobody think and feel the same as me? Did nobody like what I liked?
Over the years, I saw different people gathering over and creating different groups that suit their tastes.
Music club, dance club, sports club, drama club, gardening club, cooking club, this group and then that group where all like-minded people came together.
They had common interests. Strangers or friends, they shared that one thing they were passionate about.
So, if others could form their own groups, then why couldn't I?
Definitely, there must be people who were also normal like me, who liked to spill blood and who liked to enjoy it as much I did.
Then where were they?
And a realization hit me.
I was so stupid.
People looked at us differently. They saw us as someone weird and dangerous from whom they needed to keep their distance. They avoided us.
They feared blood.
So, they feared us.
Like how I always kept my true self hidden from others, my friends out there must be doing the same. They would be keeping their interests hidden, too, just like me. It must be so agonizing not to have anyone talk about yourself - like real self.
Who could understand it better than me?
They were there. Somewhere. I had friends. I was sure of it.
I was so happy when I understood this. I was over the moon.
But I needed something to bring them out. I had to do something so that my friends would know too that they weren't alone.
I broke into soft laughter.
It was a fun way to discover them. I won't tell you because that is my secret.
But yes, it felt so good.
I found friends. My very own friends. We came together. We were so excited to talk about all the nice stuff. In fact, many of them introduced me to a whole different world with so many methods to have more fun. Each one of them was so interesting.
Knives, ropes, acid, boiling water, hockey sticks, arrows, needles…there were so many different ways to see that beautiful red shade.
I felt my blood pumping in excitement. It was just exhilarating.
Unfortunately, we knew that the other crazy people wouldn't just come to us for our enjoyment.
I didn't understand why. It was fun, after all. But this was the perfect chance to introduce them to our world and let them see how wonderful it was.
So, we had to think of a method to bring them to us.
It was nothing much, just tricking them a little. Once they were here, there was no way out.
Just like that, we enjoyed our game. The 'others' who always shunned us, called us crazy and weird, were now begging us to let them go. They were crying and screaming, and oh God, that was such pure bliss.
Just a few days ago, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves with a woman, beating her into a pulp. Everything was going so well, but damn, somebody saw us.
It was a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old. Thank God we caught her.
It was a bonus for us. We didn't even have to look for another person.
We had twice the fun that day.
And now…
Some other guests were waiting for my friends and me.
This time it is a teenage boy, and we also got one dog! Once again, a bonus.
My eyelids flickered.
The dog...That soldier's dog…
It was such a long time since I played with an animal. Surely, the soldier won't mind it, right? It would be just a bit of fun.
I smiled.
So, now I have to go. I have to satisfy my thirst and my thrill once again.
I have to go to follow my instinct.
My crimson instinct.