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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #919130
Based on a dream I had. Kinda...bloody. Sorry.
His green eyes look at me from all around the room. He's staring, feeling the familiar fear that my body gives off. His eyes darken, filling with lust. He wants to hear me scream his name in pain, he can't wait, and I know it. It's the same look he gives me every time, and I always fall for it, confusing it with passion. In an instant, the room is draped in darkness, like someone has tied a blindfold over my eyes. I feel vulnerable, and I know he likes it even more. I feel hands grabbing my arms, but I know they aren't really there, it’s part of his magic. I hear him laugh, it sounds happy. He's in a good mood, but I know it means that the pain will be greater.

He forces me onto my back, and his eyes appear, finally red, red with anger and dark from lust. A silver knife glints red from the light in his eyes, and I start to breathe faster. Anticipating the pain, trying to block it from my mind. I feel him lay the side of the knife against the naked skin over my heart, and he speaks. Words in a different language that are so beautiful, that I can‘t help but listen to his voice. The words he speaks are a spell, a spell of protection. He told me once it would keep me alive, but do nothing to help the pain. He stops abruptly, and trails the knife down to my stomach, continuing his spell there. The spell ends, and I feel him start to dig the edge of the knife into the soft flesh of my stomach. I gasp in pain, I never get used to it. He brings the knife quickly, and sharply across my stomach, in a straight line. Then he pulls back. The warm blood wells up, and flows down both sides of my stomach.

He's teasing me. Saving the real pain for last. It's the way he likes to do it best. I don't cry out. That pleases him. I feel him become annoyed. He brings the knife down again and makes several small, deep, gashes. I yell out this time, and he smiles. He starts another cut, but does it slowly, to draw out the pain.

I feel fingers rubbing against the cuts, collecting blood. He rubs them on my lips, coating the blood on them like lipstick. I start to cry, tears leaking from my eyes, as I try to breathe past the pain. He starts to laugh loudly, and I feel a weight settle on my waist. I open my eyes, and the room seems even darker. I fight to stay awake, and I see his eyes appear right above my own. I want to say I love you, but my voice has stopped working. He trails the knife back up over my heart, and his eyes come closer. I know what's coming, and I know there's nothing I can do to stop it. I feel his lips touch mine, forcing my mouth open in a bruising kiss. He drives the knife into my heart, and I feel myself pass out.
© Copyright 2004 Kamilah (rubbieduckie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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