Filthy. The hands that touched me laid on the floor. Disgusting. I watched as the flame flickered and devoured the gloves, it drifted in the wind consuming it until nothing but ashes were left. I looked at the alley with contempt. The filth that had built up had been uprooted. Soon, everyone will know. But although I personally watched as the filth was torn out of its roots and strung out like the intestines of a cow, the nightmares still return. The same brown eyes fixed upon me watching me, jeering at me, sneering and then disappearing into the unknown. I always woke to see the darkness that I had left to embrace the thorns that I had buried into my flesh. I would trace the scars that provided me the freedom to roam and seek revenge. But when I close my eyes they reappear. The dark brown hues that kept staring at me. Watching me walk and sneer. I would grip the dagger in the tight box and stare around me in fear, waiting for the brown eyes to reappear before i bolted back from the depths of hell.
However I would have a picture. A picture of the trash that was uprooted. Each and everyone of them with their faces mauled so much they could not be recognised and I would return to the box where everything had started. Papers so worn and the mess sprawled over the floor and in the centre of it was the end. A collection of information, a collection of those filth and I would trace them again as if I could still see the person that was broken, barely hanging on to the life they saved themselves from. The blood which had dried on the corners of the scraps that were brought together. I stared at the corner they would curl up in to greet the blood curdling screams they let out when their nightmares bade them in their sleep leaving no room for solace.
They lived in the shadows creeping round the edges of the alley and there were many like diseased rats that slumped against the walls and piled ontop of each other, their dead eyes reflected everywhere. Voices that haunted the child echoed around them, the pleas and the suffering. But it was the silence that scared them most. For those brown eyes would look into her soul. Those brown eyes that brought them suffering.
They could never have perished, no. They lived within that child, as they grew, and kept watching them. They could never be perished as long as that child lived. My hands gripped the dagger too small for the hands that held them. Its blade gave a ruby glow when the moonlight descended upon it. This world needed to erase the filth that inhibited it. The roots may have been burnt by the sunlight that shone upon it in the day, but its seed lay dormant in that child who still lives. Around me I could hear laughter and I could faintly see that brown eyes staring at me, pitting me, knowing that I could never get rid of it. But it was wrong. That child was strong enough to rid it's shackles that confined them.
The blood drained out of my body as it filled the box with its ruby colour. Finally. The filth had been purged, the brown eyes that stared at me in anger as it watched me destroy the last connection it had to the living. No longer will anyone be plagued by it, and the child can finally find solace in the silence.