Violentines Day

My head hurts.
The plain color of my surroundings blinds and binds me to the ground, unable to stand or move. Why? Flailing my arms, they fall to the ground, in a puddle. Its sticky, wet, and familiar. My eyes cannot see but my mind is telling me...

"Get away!" 

It sounds desperate and pleading but not in my mind anymore, it's in front of me.
Heavy breathing. Shuffling shoes. Clinking metal. Whispered cries of a child.
My eyes finally adjust to the redness I was blinded with. Blood. Blood which came from violent and gruesome deaths. The pattern indicated anger with each stab. The boldness meant the desperate plea  to be quick. Each pattern unlike the next. All emotions one could have with killing. The blood pooled around mountains of bodies, familiar faces.
Farthest away from where I sat, a person was panting, a child cradled in its arms. The child was silently crying, never ending. The person looked at me with pleaing eyes and the child remained in her arms.
"We built your throne, this is the price we all pay for 'you' being someone else. All those people are you. Many times I have had to kill you, myself, and this child. We are all you." She answered with blood on the hands that clutched the child close to her bodice.
"Dont be so suprised, you are killing yourself. This child is your weakness, being scared, alone, wimpering. I am your anger, boiling and killing all that you want. Why did you come? We have always did what you want, you cannot kill me. Your scared of that fate. Alone with no one to stand by your side but there are still many emotion you have yet to kill, all hiding. From 'you'."
A girl looking exactly like me stumbled and crawled into the scene behind myself. She was wounded and crawling from the mountain. "Kill her. She is love." Anger said, taunting me.
Anger began to fill my heart. I hate love. Love is supposed to be dead already. I turned my back to Weakness and Anger, walking to Love, smirk plastered on my face. KILL! Grabbing her head and a knife in my hand, I laughed. Slitting her throat and blood spraying across my body.
My body went numb with excitement. It was a thrill. I couldn't feel anything but my anger and excitement. I glanced over and threw the limp body onto the mountain of dead Rachel's. I shivered. Anger spoke with joy and fear. "You have finally gotten your hands dirty. 'You' are a monster. Its your turn." And with that, Anger lunged at me, tearing away my skin, revealing blood red and sharp claws, grotesque fangs protruding from my mouth, eyes wide and catified; venomously staring at myself.

I am a monster.