Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m not proud of myself.
Not for how I begin our game. I poke at her through the small, square holes in the cage trying to make contact with her, but she continues to press herself against the wall of the structure furthest away from me.
I scoff and finally pull open the door to let myself in. I keep my body aimed toward her as I reach back and close it, locking it securely and almost dropping the set of items I’m now trying to balance in one hand.
“Are you going to fight me, Abigail? For your life?” I ask quietly as I shift the shears back to my left hand.
“You had better kill me if that’s your intent, otherwise I’ll fucking kill you ,” she yells at me.
I smile.
I’ve never been threatened that way before. In all of the years I’ve been doing this, not once has anyone threatened to take my life if I failed to take theirs. I really didn’t have any intentions to end her, at least not this way, but the fight in her tells me that I’ll have no choice.
“And who knows that you’re here?” I ask as I slowly start to circle her. She moves to the center of the cage, ready for a fight. I’m so impressed with her. I appreciate her will to live, and I wonder if her resolve will prove to me that she’s worth setting free.
“Everyone! I told everyone in the office where I was going after work! They’re going to come looking for me!” she hollers loudly .
I let out a sigh and drop my head for a moment. Then I look back up at her and smile.
“Thank you.”
“Didn’t you hear me, you fucking freak? You’re going to get caught this time!”
“You’re lying. Would you like to know how I know? Because if you had told anyone that you were coming to my home, you would have said nothing. You would have denied the fact instead of spitting out a childish lie. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, as I’m sure you can tell, and it won’t be the last. I have one more after you then the world will be allowed to proceed without me. But first ….”
I move quickly, but she does too. I swing the poker as violently as I can toward her, and I miss. She moves out of the way in the nick of time, and I almost lose my balance.
Focus.
I turn to face her. I won’t miss this time. I just have to wait for the opportune moment to strike.
And it presents itself when she runs toward me. I quickly raise and bring down the poker on the side of her head knocking her to the ground. She’s whimpering now; crying like a wounded animal, and it makes me feel godly for the smallest of moments.
I like to stand above my prey; to assert that I am the dominant one, and that they should be humbled to stand, kneel, bleed, beg, or cry before me.
I have no more words to offer Abigail. I have nothing left that would be a comfort to her, so I don’t waste my breath. Instead, I simply get to work.
Dropping the poker to the side, I take the shears in both hands, raise them high above my head, and bring them down with full force.
She gurgles, coughs up a small amount of blood, and her body writhes. She’ll go into shock soon and then she’ll be as okay as she can be impaled on my living room floor.
I sit down to her right and slide the poker into her hand then turn my back to her. I close my eyes and wait patiently before she starts to strike me like I thought she would.
And just like that, the pain is back. The moments I thought I had lost to Verona are back again as the poker scratches down my back. She’s not strong enough to lift it right now, but the scratches, they’re drawing blood, and that’s more than enough for me. I need this pain, I deserve it, and I sure as fuck have earned it.
“Harder, please,” I say quietly.
I can hear her behind me, still gurgling, trying to hit me with the poker instead of raking it down my back, but it’s to no avail, and I take a small amount of pity on her.
Pity amuses me.
It’s not something I feel often, but I reason it’s because she’s her friend, so I turn to face her and remove the poker from her hand.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” I say to her, tilting my head to the right. “Would you like it to be over now?”
She turns her face away and coughs, another spurt of blood covering her face. She won’t answer me, but she doesn’t have to. I know she wants the pain to stop, and I know that I’m the one that holds that power now.
The only question is how will I do it? Since she won’t answer me, I only see one way.
“Last chance, Abigail. Would you like it to be over now?” I ask her softly, crouching over her body.
She turns her face toward me, slowly, shaking, and spits blood onto my face. I close my eyes so that I can wipe the blood away then I open them to look at her again.
Like a wounded animal, her eyes are still trying to intimidate me. Her face, while contorted in pain, is wearing a mask of fear.
I place my hands on the top of the shears, gripping them firmly, when she finally speaks.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asks in gasping breaths.
“Because you were foolish enough to say yes,” I reply simply.
She lets out a guttural sound as I pull on the shears; down, raggedly, all the way until I hit her pelvic bone. That’s the only thing that stops me. While her eyes are wide and her breaths are becoming more shallow, I reach down and begin to pull her stomach open, each side to its place. I feel something odd when the warm blood touches my hands. I know what I need to do in order to consider this a successful experiment. I know what should happen, to know that I am genuinely ready for her.
She’s still alive, but barely, as I pull my pants off. My cock is hard and ready as I carefully pull my boxers off around it. I have to do this quickly because I find it boorish to fuck the dead.
I crouch over her and very carefully lower my cock into the gaping flesh that’s covered with blood, and I fuck her. I fuck her until I can feel her insides move, until I slip in between her intestines, and the slithering feeling reminds me of the neck that I had curiously inserted myself into so long ago.
It’s warm, wet, and welcoming, and I can’t help myself. I drop my knees to either side of her body and continue fucking her until I see the light go out of her eyes. Until I realize that I’m losing myself too far in the moment, until I grit my teeth and cum deep inside of her.
It was more the sound of the blood, the warmth of it, that helped me get off as quickly as I did rather than the act itself.
I’m breathing heavily as I lower myself gently on top of her. I managed to finish just before she died, and I’m pleased with myself. It tells me that I’m much more controlled than I think I am, but now it’s time for me to clean up. I have to erase every trace that she was ever in my home, and I have to clean my shears. They definitely have earned their place in the cabinet.