Managing Your Serial Killer

Chapter 6 - The Blood Of The Father

WARNINGS: Trigger warning for: Self-Harm, Drug and Alcohol Use, Violence, Gore, Death, Abuse.

Please be aware of those triggers as the story goes on. Each chapter will have trigger warnings across the top just in case. IF ANY OF THOSE BOTHER YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

If you have any suggestions, feel free to DM me or comment on the chapter.

Thanks and Enjoy!

-Lok

QUICK EDIT - Y/N is non-binary - using They/Them pronouns and the Mx. honorific. <3

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POV: Y/N

---NIGHTMARE---

I stood over the two chairs, each with a hooded figure tied to it. Both figures were bleeding from various wounds and breathing rather heavily. In my left hand, I held a bloody knife. Looking down at the rest of my body, it was splattered with blood and sweat.

"Please... let us go.... Please..." The smaller of the two figures cried out, the voice oddly familiar.

Unable to control my body, my left arm lashed out, slashing the smaller figure's body. The deep red blood bubbled up out of the cut and a scream ripped through the room.

"Detka... please... stop... let us go... please." The owner of the voice finally clicked in my head as my right hand reached forward and pulled the hood from the smaller figure. Liz, beaten and cut up, looked me in the eye, terror and hurt simmering in them. "Detka, why..."

I slammed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sight in front of me.

"Y/N look at me... and tell me... why." Liz's voice was stronger now.

I could feel my right hand reach up and grab the other hood, revealing who I knew would be Tom.

"Darling... why have you done this?" Tom's voice was soft, full of what I could only identify as disappointment.

My eyes snapped open, looking him in the eye. He must have seen something reflected in them that made him pale considerably. Opening my mouth, the words wouldn't come. I had no reason as to why I was doing this. I didn't want to do this... I just didn't have control.

"You've done this. You've hurt us. You've killed us..." Liz's voice turned sharp, like a knife. "You deserve to be alone. You deserve to hurt.... You deserve death..."

The words echoed in my head as Liz and Tom took their last breaths. Their eyes fixed on me. I could feel the sting of a knife drag across my forearms as I let out a scream.

---NIGHTMARE END---

My body sat up straight in the bed of my hotel room. I took a breath, attempting to calm myself, only to see blood on my arms. My stomach rolled at the idea that the dream might have been real. I rushed to the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the toilet. Once my stomach was completely empty, including some acid that stung my throat as it came up, I sat back against the wall. My eyes landed on my arms, the blood beginning to dry. I went over to my cabinet and found what I had been looking for. The silver metal glinted in the fluorescent lights.

I held the blade between my fingers and stared at it. Would I really do this? Pulling my shirt off, I ripped the blade across my bicep, letting the blood dribble down my arm. Each cut stung, but the pain was a release of pent up emotion. I deserved this, Liz had even said so. I deserved the pain and loneliness that I was going through. A total of five cuts and I felt myself focus on the present.