Ray stood amidst the carnage, the air thick with the iron scent of blood and the silence that only death could bring.
His chest rose and fell however not from panic or from fear. But from something else, satisfaction, his victory, adnd released feelings.
He looked around slowly, as if admiring an art piece he'd just completed. The sprawled bodies. The red stains. The way the warm blood still trickled down cracks in the concrete.
It was horrible and was violent. But to him, it was beautiful.
"I did it," he whispered to himself, his voice light and trembling. "I really did it."
A breath escaped his lips and then a laugh. Soft at first, then louder, deeper, the laugh rising like a wave.
His shoulders shook with it. It was real laughter not forced or frantic, but joyful. For the first time in his life, Ray felt truly alive. He felt powerful and not helpless.
He laughed for minutes, alone in the shadowed corner of the gym, surrounded by still bodies and warm blood.
