Iᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏғғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴋɪss.
Hᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs﹖
Oh, how the taste of her lover’s intoxicating blood flooded her taste buds from the subtle action of her middle digit disappearing between crimson lips. It was like an addiction that sparked so suddenly within. That craving for the taste of blood. The feel of it between her fingers, and the whimpers of the injured as her blade embedded itself within the flesh of her lover.
Those cries were like music to her ears. The pleas that spilled from trembling lips, with frightened eyes so wide; filled with fear. The sociopath felt the pain as fingernails scraped along her arms. Felt the writhing of the woman beneath her very formation as over and over again, the blade of that lovely knife of hers sliced through flesh, muscle, and organs.
Until the very last cry of utter submission was heard.
“Dɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ﹖
Cʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ﹐ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ.”
Their connection wasn’t like any other. Maybe it was their pasts with brutality under the hands of a man, or the blood that trailed along the path of their existence they left behind. Who knows, but it wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t a mushy feeling deep within the pit of their stomachs, or the sexual tension that tied around one another to tug them closer.
It was an attraction. The need for a gentle touch. A release of any kind that the two fell into late at night, beneath the burgundy covers of their bed. Hidden in the shadows. With whiskey kisses, blood-dipped fingertips, and melodic moans.
Their addiction for one another wasn’t like the need for a pill, or the taste of alcohol upon the tip of the tongue. It was for the deep solace of greed that the two encountered so very quickly. How they fell into the trap of love itself, and yet, love was just a phenomenon. A myth. A lie.
A mixture of lavender, and cigarettes; of vanilla, and whiskey. Poetry of a soul never forgotten, hovering above. Flames danced along the faded walls from the abundant amount of scented candles that lingered about.
“Didn’t they ever warn you to never play with the dead?”
Hushed words, barely breathless. A whisper of a warning that flitted like wind through the air, drawing a curtain of darkness upon the room as each candle blew out one by one.
Three days of lying in an abandoned field in the middle of nowhere. Decaying beneath the winter sun, and sprawled across the straw-like grass beneath her exposed body. Obsidian bruises, and a masterpiece of scars scattered along her entirety. They were minuscule to the clean cut along the base of her throat, rid of the blood that once poured from the wound.
They had the audacity to clean her up, but the ignorance to leave her broken and exposed as if she were a piece of trash tossed aside for the wolves to pick at. Luckily for her, those scavengers never came.
Uɴғᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ﹐ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴇɪɴs.
It was her very first rodeo with a desire so lethal that a weapon didn’t amount to the insanity that crept into her bones, making its home within her very anatomy. Murder became her, laced with revenge, and a desire for blood that she wanted to paint the walls with.
Her very own canvas of a broken heart.
What did her lover expect? When opening that veil from the other side with the use of a Ouija Board, she was opening a door into Hell itself. A place that had become the sociopath’s home. Full of creatures with insanity dripping from their mouths, and revenge swirling in their darkened eyes. They were damned to the pits of that fiery place, and she?
She was torn away from the flames that danced across her flesh like a cozy blanket of pain, and brought back into a world entwined with reality and horrid memories.
Dɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ﹖
They did not, and that lack of knowledge had been punished with a steel blade through tough flesh that marked her lover’s very own Fate. Revenge on her mind, anger lingering within her bones, and murder laced in her veins. It was arousing to watch as bloodied lips parted in fear. How eyes became filled with pain.
How the cries of a voice that once sent shivers up and down her spine sent tingles of ecstasy through her core.
Eight words that held so much meaning.
Who knew that love would become suicide.
Who knew sleepy kisses of morning emotions would become a sweet memory drowned in blood.
Who knew cold fingertips would turn her heart into an obsidian curse.
I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ﹐ ʙᴀʙʏ ɢɪʀʟ.
Tᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ɴᴏᴡ﹐ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ.
Tᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴇᴠɪʟ I ᴡɪʟʟ sᴇᴇ ʜɪᴍ sᴏᴏɴ.