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The midnight sky shimmered through the clouds, nothing can be properly seen in the long stretched highway without lights. Winds blew incredibly strong, as Wemmbu felt that same feeling flow through his mind filled with an endless, hopeless, darkness.
Thunder bolted loudly and rain poured through the tense air. Wemmbu wasn’t wearing a helmet currently, and he was in the most dangerous areas of the entire city. The feeling of the wind blowing on your face coping with a loss he can never retrieve again gave him a sense of closure.
Everything and everyone told him to leave ‘him’ behind, but he can’t just let someone go that easily. After years of trying so hard to love someone—And just let go so quickly feels too much to think about. Pressure built up inside his head that no ever ibuprofen can cure at all.
The engine of his motorcycle was loud, and steering the vehicle started to become a problem, but he couldn’t give a shit at this time. Everything was tiring, and nothing could cure the feeling of sheer loneliness everyday—Even if Egg was there. He was just basic support, and he feels guilty asking for more from someone so kind to him.
Cold hands steered the vehicle with an incredible strong grip. Increasing the speed to an almost impossible level, barely dodging any cars, trucks, and other motorcycles infront of his way. He didn’t know what to feel or expect, should he be worrying about the fact he’s above the speed limit, or that he’s in the verge of dying right now over his stupidity.
There was no reason to check the time right now, all he knew it was atleast 2 AM right now. And he hasn’t slept properly in months. Because of everything he’s lived for is just being dissolved like paper being put in an acid container you can never reach.
It’s tiring living this way, yearning for something he can never ever reach—Even when it’s so close to him, and he can feel his grip on it. He isn’t the best person ever, but he just want’s to kill his never ending sadness inside of him. Even other’s sadness. His heart was for ‘him’ even if ‘he’ would eat his heart out.
A rush of adrenaline flowed through his veins at the speed he was going on—Without expecting to ever stop in a while. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but he cannot. He wants to cry, but all his tears are dry lies. He wants to be angry, but he has no reason to ever be angry at all.
Traces of blood were left on his arms, and it didn’t stop flowing. Angry red marks were stained onto his wrists, some deep, some quite shallow. The red substance was smudged onto cheeks, and the smell of copper accompanied him and his hell of a coping mechanism. He didn’t know if it was his blood, or his victim’s. Nothing mattered anymore, and the truth hurt too much to even think about.
A fragile heart was shattered even more than the people he had ripped apart.
Cannibalism was a way to let out something he could never put through words. Deep down, he knows he isn’t necessarily a terrible person, he’s just carving his pain and sadness into someone’s heart and consuming it live. There wasn’t a single ounce of guilt when he did that, he just needed to cool off.
There wasn’t a point of chasing it, and Wemmbu knew that. But facing reality is something he can’t make himself do. His once lively eyes that filled warmth in a space was downgraded to a dark shade of purple you couldn’t even recognize anymore. His skin had become incredibly pale, and he looked much more exhausted than before.
Even if he still ate normal food, the crave for human flesh and the specimen’s organs was always inside his mind. He has a high amount of self control, but the thought of being alone with someone in an elevator in your University looking like Satan himself ignites a spark inside him that can’t be shrugged off as something normal.
No one bothered to care about him.
They leave when he needs them.
When he showed vulnerability, they said he’s just overreacting.
No one ever listened.
But it wasn’t the time to think about the past. Not when he just ate someone’s literal guts in an abandoned alleyway near another city. It didn’t matter anymore, it never did before and even now. Even with the loud sounds of motorcycle engines and screaming from drunk drivers, he found melancholic peace in driving in this type of area of the highway, with no idea where he’s going.
Semester break hasn’t started yet, so he’d be definitely late for 7 AM lectures tomorrow. But college didn’t matter anymore. It never did, even if his ‘future’ depended on his success in college. Blood he didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s was splattered on his black T-shirt, and his body screamed at him to just sleep already.
Long, precious purple silky hair he once called his was damped and wet from the strong rain. The thunder had stopped, but the rain seemed like it wouldn’t stop for atleast another day. His hair was frizzy and very messy, even other edges of it had blood on it. How the fuck is he this messy on eating blood.
The beautiful moon that shimmered in the darkness was covered by darkness and clouds, even stars couldn’t be seen. His hands were tired from driving his motorcycle for hours, and his legs wanted to move from the uncomfortable position it was in—But his mind disagreed with the rest of his entire body. His wrists were sore, and ached to be cleaned but the pain wasn’t something he needed at this moment.
A thought inside him questioned how was he dodging vehicles at atleast a hundred kilometres an hour? He didn’t have a proper explanation for this. All he knew was that the effects of eating humans had taken a toll on his sanity. He didn’t know how it started, all he understood was that it brought a sense of closure and it gave him another reason to not cease to exist in this world.
The universe enjoyed tormenting him, like a marionette that has been placed in the worst near-death experiences by their own ventriloquist—And he had understood that years ago, even when he was just a defenseless child that didn’t know what to do in it’s miserable hell of a life.
Maybe it was just his fault. Lomedy was always better than him in every way. (Besides academically.) He was kind, charming, and humorous. And he didn’t act like a psychopath in a mental health institute. But they never bothered to understand someone than just a generic one-dimensional person.
Everyone around him makes him feel like having mental disorders or being what they call ‘concerning’ was something that should cease to exist. His childhood was filled with memories he didn’t want to remember anymore and staying in a Mental Hospital with his small amount of sanity left.
The rain the once poured strongly started to weaken slightly, but it didn’t effect anything. The dark jacket he had was tied neatly on his waist, barely providing shelter on him. It was freezing cold in the rain during early mornings, and the strong wind force wasn’t helping a single bit for him.
As much as he wished, Wemmbu knew he couldn’t stay here forever—Just driving a fast motorcycle in the pouring rain, not knowing where to go and exhausted over everything in his life that exists. Rain drops hit his face as he drove, he closed his eyes for half a second and it seemed like his vision had gotten slightly blurry when he had blinked.
Was it his eyes that had produced the wet substance? He hasn’t remembered the last time he had tears fall down his face without it being dry the second he feels it. A small lump on his throat had started to slowly form, and his head had started to spin. He tried to focus on the road infront of him—And he slowed his speed to stay safe and sane.
The pulse of his heart had started to get faster, as he tried to calm himself down.
Idiot breath.
Stop thinking about them.
Don’t give out on the road.
Stay calm.
Inhale after exhale repeatedly, he had started to feel calmer, much lighter—And shallow breaths accompanied his loneliness. His vision was still a blur, but he knew that he was capable of properly driving in conditions that aren’t something that should be happening while you’re driving in some large ass highway you don’t know where it’s located.
A sign had been seen as he drove a faster speed, and now he realized he’s going back toward his University. His freeform driving had gotten him back where he had started? Oh wow, that’s just geniunely impressive. He didn’t even know where he was heading in the first place, and he doesn’t pay attention to road signs or familiar things on the road much.
Something inside him had told him to go faster, and he didn’t know why. It was much more crowded with vehicles than before now, even if the night still felt young like multiple hours ago. The world felt like it was blurring away in a dream that you couldn’t explain with words.
- ⭐️
The University he had despised was there, and he felt like he had went in a trip to a land he couldn’t recognize or know. It was around 6:00 in the morning, and the sun had only started to slowly rise that time of the day. Birds chirped in the distance, like he hadn’t just have a mental breakdown internally when he was in the road. Right, totally normal day in his life.
Small pebbles moved as he walked closer through the building, opening doors, going to elevators, and moving through hallways. Until he reached a dorm he knew was his and Egg’s.
Keys jingled as he unlocked the door, looking like he had witnessed and survived hell itself. His expression remained apathetic, as water dripped through the soft carpet and his hair remained the most wet from the storm hours ago. And he was pretty sure he would develop a bad fever again from his stupidity.
A familiar person stepped outside of his room with his voice still raspy from the following hours of sleeping, and his neatly kept white hair was scattered like uno cards on a table.
”Bro..where were you the rest of the morning??? I woke up at around 12 in the night and you weren’t there..”
”Also WHY are you covered in blood and scratches and sh??? Did you get in a gang’s fight?? I’m worried bro.” As much as there was a hint of frustration in Egg’s voice, he was still concerned over someone he cared about deeply.
”I was involved in an accident, but I wasn’t sent to urgent care since it wasn’t even that bad. Dawg, I’ll fix myself in the bathroom just wait.”
The thought of someone knowing he was a Cannibal was something that felt sickening to think about. Someone he trusts, isolating themselves from him wanted him to kill himself and just scream on the floor.
Egg looked clearly unconvinced from his response, but didn’t proceed to question him further. Besides, you can’t really know if he was lying or not, since he is good at that—And don’t ask him how he knows what he had just said. The carpet was soaking wet from Wemmbu, and he looked much more rough that most of the times he sees him.
The bathroom door clicked, and all the pain he had held in hours ago had finally hit him, and blood dripped from his wrists, others were from his sympathetic victims, while the familiar smell of copper filled the small bathroom as he took out some alcohol from a random drawer.
A sudden jolt of pain hit his body, as he winced at the painful sensation of adding literal alcohol to your injury. He knows he can’t say anything about it, since Egg would definitely get worried from whatever he was doing inside the small bathroom. Doing a ritual? Casting a spell? Probably.