by Cat Mann
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I found myself in the dimly lit hospital hall with my scissors in hand. I stormed through the halls, searching for No. 6. I knew he was in there somewhere. The pounding of my feet reverberated against the corridor’s walls. After a long search, I found his door at the end of a quiet passage. I barged straight into the room and stopped dead in my tracks.
The room was filled with a hauntingly familiar scent and No. 6 was not alone. I couldn’t make out the other person’s face because as soon as I walked in, the person vanished as if into thin air. All I saw, as the figure faded from the room, was a Nike trainer with a yellow swoosh on it. I tried to push the fear from my mind. Who would want to visit someone as evil and demonic as Damien Kakos? What if the end of No. 6 wasn’t the end of the Kakos? I focused on the task at hand, Damien Kakos watched, helpless with fear in his eyes as I took his red thread in my hand. Looking down on him with merciless hate, I sliced his life in two with no remorse. I heard the hospital monitors give a few final bleeps and melt into a single flat tone. I turned around and left.