Futo staggered to his feet, he wobbled and smashed into furniture which fell to the ground with a splash. Futo struggled to open his eyes, when he eventually was able to open them long enough he gazed upon his hands, they were bloody up to his forearms; he looked like he had bloody gloves on. He smelled his hands and sneered and threw his hands to the side trying to distance himself from the stench.
Futo walked to the sink and looked in the mirror and heaved. He looked up and saw the words “YOU DID IT!” written in his handwriting in blood. He looked up and he immediately sobered up. Futo frantically turned on the taps gagging, crying and lamenting aloud as he tried to clean his hands. The water gushed out and then a few seconds later the tap coughed and dried up. He stared in the mirror again looking into his eyes. He was petrified, and began to blink violently hoping that with every blink he would erase what he saw. His eyes eventually shifted from himself to what seemed like a human hand on the floor in the room he had just walked out of.
He staggered back and behind a blood splattered TV box a woman lay prostrate with part of her weave ripped off, toes turned inward and nails dug into the carpet with a crimson ellipse partly dried underneath her torso. Futo screamed and leapt onto his bed, horrified and curling up toward the bed’s head rest it had blood splattered all over it. As he curled towards the head rest he felt something sharp cut him and he squealed exaggeratedly and felt for what had cut him. It was a shard of glass. Futo laughed hysterically and then passed out face first and butt in the air on the bed.
A few hours later Futo was awoken by two hands choking the life out of him. He suddenly felt the need to purge that made the process all more uncomfortable. He kicked very limply and missed the assailant. He could smell whiskey through the person’s skin mixed with musky cologne, it was a familiar smell but at the same time not quite. The assailant’s hands slid off of Fruto’s neck after Fruto heard a loud manly grown followed by a thud on the ground. Fruto gasped for air and immediately purged on the sheets and passed out again.
Futo was awoken by a cool breeze; he opened his eyes to blinding light. He slowly lifted his head and slammed back on to the ground, the hangover was overbearing. Futo squinted as he tried to adjust to the light and lo and behold he was in a park with children playing and screaming around him.