Megan Had regrets. A lot of them in fact. As she felt the world slow down to a snail’s pace, in the back of her head, she relived those regrets. Growing up angry at her sister for getting what she wanted. Her parents berating her for being the problem child. The one who was freak and acted out. Beating up that one girl when she was 11, going as far as trying to bite her ear. The girl had mocked her watching that dark corner of the room, where they liked to hide.

Blamed for the misfortunes that happened around her because she could see the truth. Mocked for knowing more than them. She regret ever saying anything. She regret being that crazy b***h. The witch. The outcast.
The freak.

Megan wondered if things could have been different had seen been quite, done what she was told. If she could have maybe have passed for normal, passed to ‘a good kid’. Maybe she’d have made friends. Maybe she’d have gotten more than just one person who cared about her. Maybe- If-Perhaps. All the possibilities ended. They were ended as her blood gushed out into the night air.

What do you feel as your arm is torn off? Pain, then nothing but a dull throb as your mind shuts down, as you go into shock, trying to block it out as adrenaline kicks in so you can have that chance, that possibility to survive. As the claws dug into her, pain shot into her mind, freezing her in place as the deed was done. What she felt first was the crack of bone, the shift of cartilage. Muscle and fat tearing, nerves going haywire as they were abruptly torn asunder in one violent motion. Most people might think skin would go first, but as Megan watched, time slowing to a crawl, the skin is what tore last, starching, clinging, trying to keep the limb in place. But like a rubber band, skin could only stretch so far, and when a hole formed, it slowly cut its way around her arm, ripping the skin, letting the limb go with the abomination.

The feeling of hot blood rushing down her side- It was just like another mission, where a partner had taken a slash to the abdomen, viscera blood and bile gushing out from them as their body collapsed on top of her, pinned while her other partner managed the killing blow. Megan had skirted death that time. But the memory of hot blood and guts on her body, on her skin- The look of absolute terror on the man’s face as he life slipped away.

Monsters killed them. Because no matter what a hunter might face, no matter how well they prepared, in the end, even a hunter was afraid of death. They feared the end like all humans. The feared that final moment. They feared that which they didn’t understand. They feared the unknown. That was why the monsters killed. Because it was how they could feed from them. It was how they got a guaranteed meal. Even from a hunter. That was what humans were for them. Dinner. Prey. A free meal. They were cattle, sheep, aimless and wandering, waiting to get picked off one by one.

As her blood gushed out in a river of red, once, Megan would have blanched. Once, she wouldn’t have batted an eye. But that was when she was child, new to the hunters. That was when it wasn’t her blood. Now it was her body bleeding out. It was her body frozen as death came on swift wings.. literally.

Craws dug into her, and Megan wondered where she’d gone wrong. Where did mess up so bad? When did she become weak? As the gaping maw began to form, she realized her answer. Megan McLach was not special. She was not strong. She was weak. She had been afraid of what she saw as a child, of what she might have been, a freak. As she’d become a hunter she’d feared failing. She’d thrown herself into work, desperate to become better, to become the best. She’d thrown away so much. The few relationships she’d had. She’d distanced herself. Somewhere in the back of her head, she thought that she was still the freak, that she was the failure, something that being hunter never cured her of.

Can one describe how it feels to get your head bitten off? The world becomes dark as your eyes dilate, trying to find reality as your mind moves to fast for your body. It moves too slow. First you feel the fangs press into your neck. Hard, like steel. Then pricks as the break the skin nothing bad yet. Then it begins. The teeth dig into the soft flesh, and you can feel blood on you, leaving you. Your throat gets tight, pain encompasses everything. You want to retch but for some reason you can’t. You try to move but somewhere you realize that your body won’t, or can’t, respond.

Death came on swift wings yes, but as her head was severed, Megan felt like it was an eternity. And that final thought that raced through her mind before nothing was left was not regret any longer. Her final thought was that it was death.

And she was afraid of what would come next.


SHE WAS DED
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