Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Twist Of A Knife

     An easy twist of a clean unstained knife. That's all it would easily take in a sweet and bloody plot to lead him to his demise. I could taste pending death in the harsh, cold air. I wiped the sweat off my face before biting my lip to hold back a smile of pleasure. I softly snickered at the thought. Sadistic tendencies were turning this feeling of his close end into a sexual urge to accomplish. The fiery, passionate, hate raged through my veins causing my own hormones to rage. Just the idea of it all was almost enough to reach a climax. I clenched on the sharp, cold metal inside my coat pocket. My own blood rolled down my hand. It reminded me of why I was here.
      I definitely don't let people get away with disrespect. He thought HE could get away without a scratch. Oh no. It was only a matter of time, and now...it was his time. My stress was about to decrease. I got a sweet, innocent smile on my lips. I saw the boy at his locker, and heard him sigh with boredom. My eyes struggled to hide the excitement while my soft, childish voice spoke to the pig.
      "Hiya!" The unknowing victim didn't seem to notice the fake cheerfulness in the air. He looked at me, growled, and then slammed his locker shut. He ignored me and walked away. I screamed in my head at that man's disrespect, but I remained in character. Giving a hurt tone that made it nearly fool-proof. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" He stopped and snapped his reply.
      "What do you want you heartless, emo bitch?" My fist grew tighter around the sharp object in my pocket. This rudeness showed he hadn't learned how to talk to a lady.
      "I came to say I am sorry. I'm so cruel," I said softly, slightly guilt-tripping him. I saw his eyes soften. I hope all men are not so easily tricked by a woman speaking softly. I batted my eye lashes as he got a smug look on his face. He gently moved the hair out of my eyes, placing a hand to my cheek. This was the reason I hated most men. A woman looks helpless, and they try to take advantage of you.
      "Oh really?" he spoke condescendingly while looking into my eyes. It almost made me sick. He thought he had won, but he was so wrong. Only one winner would be left standing. It would be me. He will be punished severely.
       "I'm sorry." A fake tear dripped from my right eye. Such a wonderful acting trick. He examined me up and down, like I was a piece of meat to a dog. I felt dirty as his eyes roamed my hour-glass body, but my eyes and lips did not falter. I was busy picturing how I would do it. A sigh escaped my mouth as his words echoed in the hall.
      "So, you agree you were wrong?" My eyes immediately sharpened as I looked straight into his eyes and his soul.
      "Of course not!" I giggled. A twisted, huge grin appearing on my lips. He seemed unaffected as he leaned against the locker.
      "Then why are you saying sorry?"
      "I'm sorry for this. Actually, I take that back. I'm going to enjoy this way too much," I replied. I lunged at him before he could even react. I pulled the knife from it's hiding spot and plunged it into his chest. I made sure to miss all his vitals on purpose.
      "W-what!?" he gasped, screaming in pain. It was such a lovely sound. I watched him as he slammed to the floor.
      "So, what? You think I'm some weak, little whore?" I questioned him before laughing. I grabbed the crawling boy by his hair and pulled him up. I slammed him into the locker and pinned him with his back against it; holding his hands above his head. "You should know better than to be disrespecting a woman!" I hissed with venom dripping off my words. I removed the knife and pushed him back into the ground. I sat on top of him. He screamed like a hyper school-girl. He was pathetically weak for a man. I carved "pig" into his back with the knife. I made sure I was nice and deep in his flesh, too. "No one can hear you," I whispered in his ear, mockingly. He screamed again, and this time I joined in with the scream.
      My prey was trapped. I used my foot to roll him over and slashed his eye as he tried to grab for me. The shock of pain caused him to curl up with his hands over his left eye. Only the right eye remained out in the open. I sunk the metal into it, but only a tad. It wasn't enough to reach his brain, but enough to allow me to pull out his eye. He sobbed eyeless, screaming and screaming as he bled all over the tile.
      "Oh boo-hoo! She took my eye, she took my eye!" I laugh before jabbing the blade straight in the middle of his throat. He started to struggle to breath. He looked so damn helpless that it was adorable.
      "H-h-h-help," he begged in a rough and scratchy tone.
      "No," I coldly stated. I clenched onto the dagger and pulled it to the side with all my might. It slid out the side of his neck. His begging and pleading stopped abruptly.
      Silence ran through the hallway. I watched his head hang to the side, as it was still connected halfway. I knelt next to him and lifted his head up with blood spraying all over the place and on me. It was amazing how much blood the human body contains. I lick the blood on his face before kissing him roughly on the lips. After the kiss, I released his head.
      "You know, you're better looking like this," I giggled. I continued speaking to the dead man as I reach ecstasy from staring at the dead body. I couldn't control myself. "To finish my work," I whispered maniacally once I calmed down. I skinned a part of him and smirked at the bloody notebook paper. I started to cut a message into the skin thoughtfully.
      This was not a crime. It was a heavenly judgement. He raped and abused the wrong girl this time. I did a service. I was never caught with this murder. Amazing isn't it? It's like the heavens were protecting me. The words I carved into my new flesh testament said "I know your sins." Then I wondered; how many people are next?

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  1. I am sorry but that was brutal.. and very well written! see what that women went through, she didn't deserve. kill the guilty uh.. okay.. but the last line bugged me.. how many next.. you see, there's a difference between real justice and what we think of justice. Murders? they always start with 1. the women was in trauma! exceptionally written.

  2. It was suppose to be brutal. The last line always brought chills to my spine. To be honest, it bugs me as well! The girl has some problems and should of gotten help rather instead of taking justice into her own hands. Crazy characters are always so interesting to me because people don't normally think like that but she thought like that so twisted and also rationalize it as well.

  3. yeah.. I will try to do that in future.. I mean write on them :D . you know what I think, people always do think like that. we all have that good and bad side in us. in the end it matters on what we choose to be :) :)

  4. Well let me know if you do write on them! I will read it! :) And you know what, I think you're right!


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