Giving up
A short story meant to vent my anger, I am in a foul mood, feeling pretty damned pissed off at life and people, this is how I get, how I feel inside, like just punching and punching over and over till shit or me breaks. No matter what I do life seems to fuck me over anyways, maybe it is just my view, no one else seems to get it or believe me, but whatever, if you don't like this then go somewhere else for now as I said angry this is intended to vent not entertain anyone. Bloody gore suicide stuff, you have been warned
*thump, thump smack* the sounds of flesh hitting a hard object dully drifted through the air, a low growling barely heard as the sounds continued. To anyone outside the dark alley all they would see is a largish shadow hitting the brick wall in front of it over and over, they might even see the small drops falling down after each hit if they looked close enough. Each drop making a soft splat on the pavement in the trash littered alley. If any were brave enough to venture closer, their eye's slowly adjusting to the darker alleyway they would see that the shadow is in fact a large tiger, his fur matted from the wet snow, a huge gut hanging out from his torn soaked shirt as he keeps beating his bloodied fists against the wall, tears streaming from his eyes but lost instantly in his fur as he just keeps punching and punching. A sense of horror and amazement are all an onlooker can feel at first, slowly turning to curiosity with slight feelings of pity. What had brought this once beautiful creature to such a state, why was he beating his hands to a pulp against this wall. Suddenly the predator lets out a roar and dropping his now useless hands he starts to bash his head against the wall, growling and groaning as he just keeps banging it again and again. Blood begins to flow from his head as he smashes it over and over, his eyes blurring from the blood. He keeps going, even after his face is a bloody swollen mess, his teeth falling out, his eyes are smashed in and he just keeps going, weakening as he loses more blood. With a final thump he sinks down the wall to the ground, blood soaking his fur as he twitches, still trying to smash his face against anything but unable to lift his head even. The onlookers stare in sadness and horror at the pitiful thing laying in a broken dying heap. Some are crying, completely confused at what led the tiger to do this, he had to have been a beautiful creature yet here he now lay, his last breath rapidly approaching, soaked in his blood and melted snow. Some just shake their heads and walk away as the sound of sirens can be heard finally, the police and medics here at last though they may be too late. They push people out of the way and rush to the broken beast's side in hopes to save this poor creature. The paramedics turn him over, his battered busted face exposed, his hands nothing more than bloody mush, they check for his pulse and look up at the police and the crowd, shaking their head. In what is most likely a pointless attempt they try to revive him, using the paddles to send electricity through him. After several failed tries they give up, pronouncing the tiger dead. They lift the lifeless body into a bag and place him into the ambulance to be taken to the morgue, the crowd slowly dispersing as they leave in a blur or lights and sirens. Most will remember this for a while but with time the incident of a young tiger beating himself to death will be forgotten.......