Ich Lüge

Chapter Seven: Honeymoon Phase

Author's note: my intention is not to  romanticise any kind of violence (just sexualise it lmao)

{Your POV}

The honeymoon phase. I guess we never got one of those. Sure you could make a montage of our many good moments together. But right from the start we were fucked up. Not a week into knowing him we had killed someone. Now our number was three. How many more? I don't think I'll ever like killing, but it has given me a strange sense of relief. Mostly it's just made me numb. I'm desensitised now I suppose, but that makes it easier to deal with JD's psychopathy sometimes.

"Y/n, are you even listening to me?" I hear his sweet voice, husky with annoyance. I know he has reason for the way he is, he's got trauma, he's been damaged. I put my head in my hands and sigh, if we ever did get one, our honeymoon phase was sure as hell over now.

It's been a few weeks since Kurt and Ram's deaths. The shock has settled at Westerburg, and no more deaths have occurred. Some attempts, of course, but at least they weren't at my hands. Nor JD's. There will always be depression and suicide, it's the cruel reality of life. But there doesn't always have to be murder, not that my loving boyfriend would agree.

JD grabs my wrists and drags me up from the bed with force. He shakes my arms and raises his voice. "Why won't you listen to me??"
"I'm sorry, JD. My thoughts are too loud." I sigh, becoming used to his angry outbursts. He never means any harm, but he causes it nonetheless. He releases my wrists and I lean my head on his chest, breathing out heavily. He wraps his arms around me and I feel his hands shaking as he rests his head on mine slowly.

I pull away before sitting on the bed cross-legged, motioning for him to join me. He lays down with his head in my lap, looking up at me, and I see tears streaming down his face. This has never happened before, I've never seen him cry. And it seems as though he's dealt with too much and let it spill over the top, causing him to break down. I run my fingers through his hair soothingly and wait for him to tell me what's wrong.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I've killed people, Y/n. And I know you killed Kurt but it's different. I liked it. I like killing people, what the fuck is wrong with me?!" He sobs, grabbing my hand tightly.
"I don't know, JD. But there's something wrong with me too. We're supposed to hate killing, right? I don't. It's supposed to hurt us or make us feel guilty. But I don't feel anything about it. I don't feel anything about the lives we've taken away." I confide, playing with his hair softly. I lean down to kiss his forehead and he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand slowly, his tears still flowing. "Whatever is wrong with us, we'll figure it out together. We can help each other get better, ok?"
"Ok. I love you, Y/n." He whispers, sitting up to hug me properly.
" I love you too." I squeeze his hand and lean against the bed, letting my head fall onto his shoulder.

👗

{JD's POV}

I've never told someone so much about myself. I've never trusted someone so much. This girl is so different, and I don't know why. She makes me feel a way no one else has before. Nothing makes me feel like this, it's better than killing. She is pure, and yet she understands my thoughts as if she's lived in my fucked up head her whole life. She knows how broken I am and still loves me. I'm madly in love with her, but I don't want to break her too.

So maybe I'm obsessed, alright? But I don't know how this relationship stuff works. I want to be romantic and spontaneous but I'm scared she'll hate me for it. I'm surprised she doesn't hate me for anything else yet. But we rarely ever argue, and when we do she's always able to stay calm, unlike me. I've hurt her before by accident, grabbed her wrists too hard and things. And I hate myself for it. But she doesn't hate me for it. She always manages to calm me down. God, I'm scared to see her angry.

She's so sweet and kind and gentle, in most aspects, that it's hard to imagine her angry. I've seen her annoyed, sure. Conflicted, upset, anxious. But never angry. And I'm sure if I do, it'll either be terrifying or incredibly attractive. I'm hoping for the latter.

👗

{Your POV}

Later that evening, after I've headed home and settled in my bed my mind races. I'm stuck in a whirlpool of memories and thoughts, and all I want is to sleep. It's draining, knowing you killed someone. Technically three people. Ich lüge, the phrase has rolled around in my mind almost constantly since that day. Since they died. Since you killed them, I hear a sneering voice in my head, but I ignore it in favour of a different thought. There's a billion different thoughts swirling in my head, but whatever one I pluck out, it always seems to be sad.

I'm not depressed though, and I don't feel sorry for myself, I'm just a little tired and drained. I'd like sleep right about now. But sleep has been difficult since Heather's death. God, you're a psychology student and you fell for a murderer?? And now you're no better! The voice screeches in my head. I take some deep breaths to distract myself, and roll onto my side, bringing my hands up to my face and examining them. I roll my sleeve up, admiring al the red marks and bruises on my arms and wrists, and sitting in solemn memory.

The bruises and marks aren't from anything bad exactly. I may have gotten ahead of myself with the psychology thing, and told JD one day that he could channel his anger into sexual energy, secretly hoping it would stop the killing spree. Secretly hoping it might help my violent urges as well. I shrug off the sad stuff, reminiscing my eagerness and his nerves instead. JD didn't want to hurt me and protested indignantly at first, but we talked it over and he realised it was probably the best coping mechanism he had at the moment.

I like it, and I think he does too, but his nerves used to get the best of him. He made sure we came up with a safe word - "saxophone" - which I use in arguments as well when he becomes too aggressive, or I feel overwhelmed. The safe word sounds stupid and the thought of saying it during sex makes me cringe slightly, but it was the first thing I could think of.....I may have been looking at his saxophone case across the room when I thought of it.

I shake out of my daydreams and take in my surroundings. My dark wood desk, matching closet and bed frame too. I have some jewellery on my desk, and a few books, some dirty clothes on the back of my chair, but other than that I keep my room pretty clean.

I rub my eyes tiredly and remember that I was supposed to be going to sleep. Distracting myself with my thoughts has become such a regular occurrence that I do it by accident now. At least this train of thought wasn't sad. It may have been a bit strange, but it wasn't sad. I tuck my arms into my chest and slowly close my eyes, trying to keep light thoughts as I attempt to go to sleep, feeling very slightly more relaxed than earlier.