The Game

May 19, 2010
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No one ever knew the real me. They were all fooled by the sweet, innocent skin attached to “my” skull. The human mind is easy to twist, to bend to one’s own selfish will. All you needed was a few pretty words, a sincere look and a touch here or there. Simple. Trust was just as easy to steal as well. Some crocodile tears and the death of a boyfriend/girlfriend/mother/child and you knew what to add to the soup to make them go down like the titanic. Playing with humans was my favorite game.

You however, were not so easy to play with. You kept your distance from my outer personality, Novocain, sugary sweet, and observed from afar. It seems “my” appearance unnerved you. “My” white teeth, perfect blond hair, manicured nails and perfect figure irked your suspicions. Or maybe it was the dried blood under said nails. Maybe. I watched you watch me, angry at you for trying to stop my game. I didn’t take kindly to that but “my” smile never even twitched. If you had played my game, thing would have ended up differently. You just had to be a stubborn b***h and keep observing.

The other night, I knew you saw what I did. Don’t think I didn’t feel your wide, dull brown eyes, burning into the flesh of “my” back the entire time. I stopped and looked at the slightly ajar door you hid behind. I could hear your lungs freeze up and still through the mountains of fat and flash on you chest. I could smell the p*** trickling down one of your shaking legs. I walked to the door, covered in dark sticky, warm blood. It warmed me down pleasurably, causing the white dress I wore to stick to “my” body like a second skin. I stood in front of the door, my own actually eyes bypassing the flimsy wood and watched you pray to your ‘oh so merciful’ God. This was amusing; you were finally playing my game. I pressed “my” warm, sticky palm against the surface and gave it a seemingly gentle push. The force I had actually sent jammed the door into the wall. I pretended not to hear the splash of your falling to your knees in your own fluids and took my leave; the clack-clack-clacking of the heels on my feet drowning out your screams of help from behind the door. I contemplated setting the place on fire, before shaking “my” head.

That’s not how the game goes.

I followed you home the next night, slipping in the door, right behind you. Dear, dear Samantha, you and every other human were stupid, arrogant and foolish. You make my game, just a bit less entertaining. But you humans were so much fun to play with. I stood in the shadows, my real neon red eyes feeling out of place in the decaying body before standing behind and hitting you over the head. Hard. You fell, splattering you white carpet with pretty red blood. I held you by your blood matted brown hair and dragged you down the stairs to your basement. I tied your arms and legs up, nice and tight, hoping your feet would turn purple. Purple was my favorite color. I waited for you to wake up, walking back and forth, humming a little ditty I was so fond of.

You woke up and screamed and screamed and screamed and grated on my damn nerves. I could feel the skin on this human’s face twist and melt into an angry scowl, so fierce that you tried to roll away. I pressed the heal of “my” heel against your rib cage and you cried out in fear and alarm.

“Why are you doing this, Brenda?!” You wailed out, spitting up blood all over Brenda’s skirt.

I gave her a light smile, feeling Brenda’s skin tighten and rip at the corners of her lips. I put a hand on the mass of blond curls atop Brenda’s head and pulled. I sneered down at Samantha as it came down with Brenda’s arm. I saw you watch in horror as you could see the inside of Brenda’s skull and her rotting, black, decaying brain. I smiled wider, feeling Brenda’s skin peels off and show off a yellowing set of teeth behind.

“I’m not Brenda, sweetheart.” I whispered as I dove for her neck. I unhinged my jaw and moaned in satisfaction as I ripped through the flesh of your neck, enjoying my feast. I chewed noisily, rudely, large chunks of your flesh falling from Brenda’s lips.

I stood shakily and looked at my appearance, in a fallen piece of mirror. Brenda’s entire face was derived of skin, her yellowing skull bathed in blood. I let out sigh and pulled myself out of Brenda’s decaying body and put myself into Samantha’s. Her body was still fresh and pliable, more fun to play with.

I walked away from the house, the smell of blood and fear on my new person and smiled.

I loved this game.

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