The suffering feel
February25
I was the black cat of the town. Bad things happened to people who crossed my path. Every night, I could not escape the nightmares about the children, chubby and laughing, their white cotton shirts reddening with blood, their screeches of pain as ribbons of blood shot across their bodies, withering skin peeling off like lichen off trees, holes burning through their skin as acid soaked their body, making the roaring waterfall of blood have an even more prodigious splatter. I knew the noise well. It trailed me like a shadow wherever I went, copying my every movement.
This is kinda creepy, but I really like your descriptive language