Author: Guede Mazaka
Jim's mouth tasted stale, and his whole body felt older than death. He hadn't thought he was capable of killing, let alone of the violent, raging slaughter he'd created. And he hadn't thought that it would feel this...good.
He was bleeding, and his breath hadn't yet recovered. He knew he was scaring the girls, who were determinedly distracting themselves with the road and with securing West. Who he hadn't killed. Who was lying at his feet, bound and wide-eyed with something that actually could be fear. Jim was jamming a gun in the other man's mouth, after all. "So you don't need the disease for anger," he laughed quietly. Cracking.
West flinched and tried to push the muzzle out with his tongue. So Jim shoved it further in, far enough so West was gagging on it, and then whipped it out. A trickle of scarlet followed the gun; he'd cut open a corner of West's mouth. "You shouldn't have," Jim told the man's rabbit eyes. "It wasn't right."