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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1630493
A short story about what happens when a Psycho get kidnapped.
All I ever wanted was to be left alone and I did my best to fight the urges that occasionally creep up on me. I vow on my mother’s life all I ever was guilty of killing were those disgusting bugs that you really don’t want taking up residence in your home. On the occasion that I did get the more severe urge to kill something bigger than a fly or centipede I would absorb myself in my paintings.

I own my own art studio and my paintings sell well. Which I guess is a good thing, but I myself have always hated my paintings. When I look at them I see the monster within in myself screaming to get out on a daily basis. My manager is always telling me less work and more play, but she doesn’t understand. When I paint I’m letting my monster out even if it’s only with paint I finally get to let it out and play for a short while. Which I guess explains the dark and twisted subject matter of my paintings that are so popular with a certain crowd.

Everything for me was business as usual on late Friday night when I was closing my art studio. I had chosen to stay late and paint because my stress level had been a bit higher lately and therefore leading me to feel a bit angrier than usual. So I was painting a lot these days with my music blasting, cigarettes in hand and whiskey on a table nearby and because of the lateness of the hour I was kind of drunk. I had had a lot of whiskey while painting that night and wasn’t completely aware of my surroundings. So I must say it was completely my fault that the moron grabbed me, but he didn’t need to send me over the edge.

I was heading out to my crappy used car when the moron grabbed me from behind. He put a cloth over my mouth and nose that was soaked in chloroform. I was so slobbering drunk I couldn’t properly defend myself so I passed out in the guys arms just like he wanted.

Truth is when I finally came to I have know idea how long had gone by. All I know is that I was sporting a very killer headache and I was lying on a nicely furnished bed in crappy basement that had nice furnishing all throughout. It had a couch, chair, bookshelf, painting supplies, easel, full bathroom, wardrobe, and a heater. Of course the heavy oak door was locked and apparently whoever took me planned on keeping me here for quite sometime.

I could tell whoever brought me here knew a lot about the mask I portrayed and went to a lot of effort to make sure I was comfortable. I could also tell that went to a lot of effort to make sure there were no weapons available in the room. Unfortunately for them I have a unique mind and find weapons just about everywhere I turn in this room. I guess all I could do was wait for whoever took me to come and check in on me.

It wasn’t long before I heard a few locks go in the thick oak door and it slowly open and through it stepped a well built nerd. I know what you’re thinking, that there is no such thing as a well built nerd. Well I can assure that there is and I looked straight at him. I never did catch his name. He wore a green sweater vest, black business pants, thick round glasses that slid down his nose, and had very pale skin. The only thing that this guy was missing was acne and a computer to sit in front of.

It seems the nerd had thought to bring me some food. I wasn’t all that interested in food. All though he neglected to bring a knife or fork he did bring a spork and real dishes.

“I’m so glad you woke up okay. I must admit I thought using chloroform on my fiancĂ© was a little extreme, but at this point in our relationship we should be living together. I just wanted to surprise you is all.” Said the nerd clearly excited as he set down the tray of food next to the bed on a small table.

“I understand…but your measures were a bit extreme. Don’t you think that we should wait to move in together after the wedding? A marriage is more likely to succeed that way.” I said hoping I could still go home and fall back into my routine. I did not like being away from my routine I felt out of control. If I could convince this guy to let me go then all would be well. Hell he might even make a good cover if I snap one day.

“No…no, I’ve been waiting far too long. We’ve been engaged two years and you still refuse to set the date. I think you like being single. So if you live with me for awhile then you’ll see I’m not so bad.”

“I didn’t know setting the date was so important to you. Why don’t we pick a date now and then I’ll move in after the wedding as planned?” I said calmly. At this point I was starting to feel my control slip farther away and panic was spreading though out my head. What would I do if he wouldn’t let me go? He didn’t know how much I needed my routine.

“No. I’m not sure you want to marry me anymore. So we will live together for awhile as a trial run. Of course I can’t let you leave this basement. I even provided your favorite whiskey, cigarettes, and music.” He said with a sad look in his eyes.

Alright I gave this bozo every opportunity to let me go and he refused. Now all I could feel was a rage like no other. I’ve had urges before, but none like this. I suppose it was so strong because he was threatening my very freedom. My way of life, so without thinking or knowing how I did it I managed to pick up the easel and knock the guy over the head.

I quickly got to work. I shot out of the basement and rummaged through his house and found some decent ropes to tie him with and before he woke I tied him to the bed. Then I pulled out the whisky, cigarettes, and put on my music full blast. The man awoke with a jerk.

“I can’t have you interrupting my routine, sir. You seem to be under the impression that we have a relationship, but truth is I don’t know you and to get you out of my way I’m going to kill you.”

“But I love you and I thought you loved me.”

“I have never seen you before today. I’ve never given into my urges to kill before. Congratulations sir you have successfully sent me over the edge. No one in history has ever done that.”

First thing I did to that man was dig his eyes out with that spork. I enjoyed his screaming. His house happened to be in the middle of nowhere. So no amount of screaming was going to save him. Then I cut him open slowly with a piece of jagged mirror from the bathroom. At this point he’s howling in pain and crying very loudly. I took every paint brush and stabbed a major organ. He died shortly after. I hung with a bed sheet in the basement. I quickly made sure there was no trace evidence that could be traced back to me and left. It took awhile to get back home, but it was worth it.

Over the next few months I have to admit I never felt so calm. My paintings took on a more cheerful subject matter and started to sell even more. The murder of my kidnapper made national news. Apparently no real evidence of a suspect has been found. They have a few suspects and I’m not on that list. Although as my new show approaches I find myself getting very stressed. I need to vent and my paintings just don’t do it anymore. I guess I’ll just have to find someone to take out my frustrations on.



© Copyright 2009 Elizabeth GraceWood (lihana at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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