The stadium air was heavy with the stench of decay, a rancid blend of blood and rot that clung to Jon's throat as he wept bitterly for ten long minutes.
Tears streamed down his face, carving paths through the grime and sweat, his sobs echoing in the air. The pressure of his murderous intent, a crimson wave of raw fury, had erupted from him earlier, so potent it knocked Alex and Alexa unconscious, their bodies slumped against the grass.
Jon used bones to pin Jenny to the ground. She thrashed beneath them, her silver hair matted with blood, her once-vibrant black eyes now milky and lifeless, a zombie's snarl twisting her lips.
His murderous intent had retreated, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. His eyes, red and swollen, stared blankly as he sat, knees drawn to his chest, thinking of nothing, doing nothing.
