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Diabolical Ways

As I stood at the foot of her bed, I watched her sleep peacefully. I had these strange, demonic thought running through my head. I wanted to kill her, and make her suffer. I did not know this lady but there was something about her that drew me in. Her scent was unforgettable, and the way she did every day tasks attracted me to her. I was not attracted to her on an intimate level, but on an obsessive level. My psychotic thoughts were interrupted when I heard a gasp. She had woken up and was staring at me, not moving.
Soon after, she laid down and fell back asleep. When she was sleeping, I thought of all the diabolical ways of killing her. Thoughts of removing each individual nail from her hand, and forcing her to deal with the pain of being sliced open slowly began to take over my satanic mind. She woke again, this time fully aware that I was there. Looking at me with fear in her eyes, I knew she noticed the razor sharp silver knife I was holding in my hand.
Her head jerked back as I grabbed a handful of her silky charcoal colored hair as she attempted to run out of the room.
“Please don’t hurt me, I’m begging you,” she pleaded.
Before she could say another word, her body began to roll down the flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, her body was limp and her eyes quickly filled with tears. She looked up at me and continued to beg me to stop. My mind began to fill with joy. I grabbed her by the hair, and took her into the kitchen.
When we got to the kitchen, I threw her on the ground, and grabbed a chair from the shiny wooden dining table. I pulled her up, and threw her limp body against the chair, and began to tie her up with zip ties.
“Please just stop, I’ll give you whatever you want” she begged as she looked up at me.
As I pulled the zip ties around her, I saw her flesh slowly beginning to tear more and more as they tightened. I grabbed a pair of pliers from the kitchen drawer, and grabbed her hand as I began to laugh.
She continued to screech for mercy but each time it just made me want to continue. I reached for my hand and she pulled away. She spit in my face which only made my anger intensify. I pulled my hand back and hit her so hard; her head flew back hitting the back of the chair. I reached for her hand once more and this time was successful. Slowly her nails came off one by one. She began to scream, and her voice filled with excruciating pain as I continued to torture her.
I worked my way down, and began to cut small incisions into her calves. As her blood began to flow down her leg, the tile floor that was once white was now covered with this dark red color. I watched as she bled out, and began to laugh sadistically. Tears fell down her face as she sobbed loudly. The room began to fill with a metallic taste, and the air around me began to fill with the smell of human flesh. I grabbed a hammer from underneath the sink and opened her mouth. Her mouth began to fill with blood, as I knocked each and every tooth out of its socket. Choking on her own blood, a crimson colored puddle formed on her lap. I untied her, and watched as she helplessly fell to the floor.
“Please”, she said one last time as her body hit the floor.
I looked at her, and stitched the word “PRIDE” on her forehead with a scalpel. I laughed as she slowly began to die; her life flashing before her eyes. Her eyes started to close, and her body became lifeless. I took one last look at my art work, and then walked out the door walking away to my favorite sound, police sirens.






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