Snippet #2141402

Drake walked slowly along the path, his earbuds playing softly in his ears. On his back he had a backpack filled with clothes and other essentials, such as his laptop computer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. Skillfully he flipped it open, shutting differently but still as skilled. This had to be his favorite pastime. Simply pulling his knife out and playing with it. It helped him to calm down, and empty his mind. After all, playing with a balisong subconsciously could end up with one less finger.

As he continued down the trail, looking around him at the trees, he couldn't help but wonder. Wonder what had happened that night he blacked out in the woods, why all the strange things were happening to him, why everyone seemed to be scared of him. So what his eyes seemed slightly red? It could be the light. Maybe his incisor teeth were starting to look sharper and longer. Genetics.

He continued to wonder, yelping as the sharp blade of his knife nicked the tip of his index. The knife fell to the ground, and he cursed quietly to himself. He stuck his injured finger into his mouth, sucking on the blood. He wondered why it tasted so good as he bent down and collected the knife. It clicked loudly as he flicked it shut and stuffed it into his pocket. He withdrew his finger and examined the wound. It wasn't large, but it was enough to get a small trickle of blood. Sticking the wound back into his mouth, he continued down the trail.