maim me if you do, maim me if you don't

Redrum's aggression ebbs slightly as he watches the girl crumple before him, her cries echoing in the silent forest. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth, mixing with the bitter realization of what he's done. Despite his instinct to dominate, a pang of guilt seeps into his consciousness, clouding his thoughts. It is conflicting with the beast he hears, still whispering at his nape to finish the job. He could scarcely understand what just happened. He remembered pain, and the color red only.

He hesitates, claws retracting as he takes in the sight of her vulnerability. His growls soften into a low rumble of uncertainty. The feral urges that drove him moments ago now feel distant, replaced by a sense of remorse. His bristled fur relaxes as his blood runs cold within his veins.

She hadn’t been an opponent, not at first, not like the others he’d lost himself fighting.

Crouching cautiously, Redrum lowers himself beside her, his own wounds throbbing in tandem with hers. His gaze softens, betraying the ferocity that had consumed him mere moments ago.

"Why?" Her whispered question pierces through the air, stirring a conflict within Redrum's chest. Why? He had acted on instinct, fueled by the need to predate, prodded by her defensive attack, but now faced with the consequences, he struggles to find an answer. His mother hadn’t taught him to do things like this, so… why…? If she hadn’t started crying, how far might he have gone?

"R-red-rum do-doesn’t know," The vermillion boy admits, his voice barely a whisper; his body wracked with twitches and spasms. His golden orbs are all confusion, all regret. His breath hitches in his throat, and all at once the boy scrabbles to his feet. He steels himself, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he speaks again. “Hurt Redrum. Make it- right.” And he stills, face dripping blood where she had struck him initially — offering himself up for whatever form of justice she is willing to deliver.