One might say that as humans we are the luckiest creatures; the highest predators with no form of enemies; top one on the food chain. But sadly, that is a lie.

We ain't lucky. Being human is a curse, and the lack of predatorial fear is the reason.

The Homosapien specie is devoid of any higher form of predation, and thus we have nothing to hide from both day and night, and that makes it all worse. Survival is the main instinct of any creature: fear of other greater creatures; the herbivores hide from the carnivores, and that cycle has been on for decades now. But unlike humans, there are nothing haunting our nights, and reigning over our day, no natural enemies like the animals, and that is why I say humans are cursed. With nothing in our paths, we become our own enemy, killing ourselves for wealth, power, fame, and money, and thus, our curse.

Most herbivores survive as a herd: a group, one with a specific goal of survival, and for humans, that is extinct in us. We can never be a pack, or a herd: every man for themselves, a misconception that feeds the tumorous strive and enmity between us.
And like it has been for over centuries: the hate and malice, which will keep on its daunting cycle, stealing everything from us, blinding us and keeping us caged in its deceit.

And the cycle of hate, might very well be what I was about to initiate again, or not.

I was left with a decision: should I end Steve, or not?

"Unfortunately, I'll be escorting you back to your room right now, " He said, as he pulled me closer. "And we'll forget this ever happened."

What was he playing at, why won't he call for backup, or report me? I had no idea at the time what Steve's real intentions were.

He dragged me, and I silently followed. My obedience was not out of weakness, but rather, it was the only better strategy I could employ at that point.

"Who would have expected you of all the patients, to carefully orchestrate such an escape plan."
He couldn't hide his astonishment, as he stared into the room, with the door widely open.
"I won't even ask you how to managed all these, but –"
He pulled me closer into himself, with all ten of his fingers piercing deeply into both my shoulders as I faced him.
"I have no reason to rat you out, but you must repay me."
Every inch of me dreaded the smile that struck his face the second he said those words: mischief had battered itself upon the suspecting look he had.

I said no words, and never made an attempt at a reply.

"Say something woman."
Rage coated the shakes he gave me, aimed at snapping me out of my 'silence trance'. But still I uttered no words. I glued my eyes to his, and made certain that each batting lid and swaying lash, gave him a proper answer.

"Goddamit!"
He threw me inside, and with his peaked strength did he push me, until I was locked in between the corner of a wall, and his throbbing spiralling veins running in multiple directions all over his arm.

"I definitely will enjoy this."
The line of his lips, stretched to a side, birthing a smirk, as he slowly ran part of his fingers over the sides of my face.
"I like it when they struggle and resist a bit, it fills me with new gushes of thrills."

"What do you want with me?"
Playing it safe was no longer an option. Steve was a beast, and a savage one that doesn't align with reasoning.

"I want you," His arms that had securely bundled me in its middle, from how he had them on the wall, was dropped, as he went a few steps back, gifting me freedom from the cage his tanned rock-hard arm and the wall created.

"I want you, all of you."

He said it again, but this time, his words somehow made my heart race. My chest pounded hard, my legs began to quiver, and my eyes thickened with a blur.

I made an attempt to speak, but his forefinger pressing against my lips, shushed me, forcing a huge gulp that sent every word back in.

"Naomi! Give me all of you, every nook, every cranny of you!"
Steve's lips grew wider apart.

"You're crazy! Stay away from me!"
I pushed him away, at least I tried. There was no where to run. Even if I left the room, it'd only just be a game of tag outside.

He ran to me, and I tried sinking deeper into the eight feet concrete wall. Obviously it didn't work. I'm not a spirit, or Danny Phantom.

I've never been into crazy psycho rock-your-world kinda guys, so this stunt Steven was flaunting, won't get this girl on her knees.

His every desperate rage sweltered breath that escaped the holes of his nose, roughly kindled fear, that rushed down my spine like a quick surge of an electrifying coldness. I was ice cold, and at the same time coated in a bubbling boiling magma.

"I've always admired you, and I have longed to make you mine Naomi!"

"Calm down Steve,"
How funny, I was literally telling a starving lion to quit chasing it's prey, and rest a bit.
"Let's settle this rationally."
I futhered my peace speech, as I tailed the smooth surface of the wall, silently finding my way to the desk that stood beside the bed. Steve followed every movement I made; his warm breath was constantly pushing apart the few lingering strands of my dark brown hair, that dropped over my face.

Every bit of me came to halt from the red light the desk my foot had hit, had shone. The sides of my eyes quickly peered over it, looking over the items that laid on it's surface.

Steve jetted his hands for my neck, lifted me above the grounds, and held me against the wall.
"This night it's just you and me, and I promise no one will ever know."

The screams that came from my belly was choked up, and murdered; not a sound came forth from all my struggle. I could feel it, the thinest drop of strength, slowly ebbing from me: my legs were turning stale, and my face went pale. All I did was kick the wall behind, as my hands tried to loosen his tight grip on my neck.

"I want you Naomi, and not even God will stop me from having you tonight."
He chuckled, as though he was blushing from my agony.

"Get the hell away from me, you bloody bastard!"
Finally found my voice as I screamed at him, dashed my hands over the desk's top, grabbed the flower vase, and shattered it's ceramic body on his head.

He winced, dropped me, and went back, hissing in pain as thick crimson blood flowed down the side of his head. I couldn't believe that a monster like Steve would have red blood, I had anticipated blue or green. Silly me!

"You bitc–"

Before he could spit out his guile words, I rushed for him again, sent my knee between his legs, and gave him a solid kick in the nut.

"Why won't he just go down!"
I thought while expressing every ounce of frustration I felt.

He was on all fours, grovelling in pain, and for a second or two, I did feel sorry for poor nut-cracked Steve.

I am no ballerina, but our pirouettes were purrfect, even though I had to gracefully solo the nutcracker, with a more elegant poise, and grace as a swan. Oh my gosh I'm so silly!

"I'll." He grunted. "I'll fucking kill you, you bitch."

Before he could fully grasp his strength, I took the injection bottle I had kept as a souvenir on the bed, uncocked it's rubber crown, and jabbed it into his mouth.

"Drink up!"
I sat on his back, pulled up his head, and forced every content down his throat.
"Drink it all, you crazy maniac!"
My body felt afloat a raging wave of an erupting volcano: my emotion were like launching rockets that could glaze the starry skies.

As he gulped the last drop, he immediately slapped the bottle out of my hands, jerked up, and shot me off his back.

"What was that!?"
He asked, while watching his flaring arms and feeble legs.

"It's your libido, you fucking misogynist."
I replied, as he turned, staggering and pulling his feet, while making his way to where I confidently stood watching his slow demise.

He fell, dropping like a soaked log of fibrous wood: damp, with a silent echoe-less thud, and sulking sound of deep seething water, frolicking inside.

I scoffed as I watched his limp body. He was still breathing perfectly when I checked, and his pulse softly pushed against his skin, slowly drumming his nonfatal state.
Without haste, I scurried through his body, searching for his key card which I found, stole, and used it to lock the door as I hurried through the hall.

Humans are fickle, and tender, no matter how powerful we may try to appear, and we for one are not lucky to be the most intelligent beings with the highest rank on the chain of killers.

This cycle of hate, fear and abuse might not end, but the little you afford to break this revolving malignancy, matters; the little love you show, and that "I'm sorry" you say each time, has enough potency to end a hundred year old feud.

Peace and love are the only tools that breaks this cycle, not pride.