Creatus

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Kris staggered down the stairwell of the apartment building, cursing aloud for what her life had become. Just twenty-two and she’d poisoned her body so many times she hardly even recognized herself.

A stale stench of sweat and liquor assaulted her senses, causing her stomach to lurch, compelling her to escape the dilapidated structure. The rusty railing swayed beneath her grip, giving her minimal support as she descended the stairs. As soon as she stepped onto the street, she inhaled a deep breath, trying to rid herself of the rancid smell. The smell persisted, which meant it was on her. Sadly, she wasn’t sure if the odor belonged to the stranger whom she’d spent the last few hours dodging sexual advances or if she smelled like the walking dead. How had she let herself become such trash?

“Why did you save me?” she screamed into the black void, similar to her life. She hadn’t asked him to save her when she was eight years old.

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