Sanscest Oneshots

Dustberry N.2

A Murder

This was it, the end. I couldn't go back.

I threw the weapon down angry with myself but relieved. The heavy object made a loud metallic thump against the hard marble floor, making spatters on the already messy ground. It wasn't long before the warm liquid collected around the mangled body. I did what I could and ran. A beat started in my heavy footsteps and steadily increased as my heartbeat pounded away at my chest. The quicker my feet carried me the farther and farther away I distanced myself from the gruesome scene. The adrenaline rush flushed through my hot head down my limbs and into my feet, unable to halt and take a step back to realize what I had done. I wanted to get far, far away from it.

A mental note of the body flashed, clouding my thoughts. The scene would hopefully be found in time, I expected it would at least. Maybe it would still be pooled in blood, cut horribly and shredded.

The person would slowly grow colder the longer they remained untouched.

Could the organs be reused? Would they know it was me? No that couldn't be possible, I would never let them catch me. Now I could finally live in peace and silence. The place would now be haunted by the spirit, bestowing him the honor of searching for something that would hopefully help others remember his optimistic presence.

What a thrill, I had gotten away with it.

The euphoria kicked in almost all at once, driving my body briskly and effortlessly like a kid high on sweets. They constantly craved it like I craved murder. This was my drug and I was ultimately hooked. I was flying, manifesting a tingly sensation. My mind was long gone, far up, murmuring a lifetime away. Murder was a trigger. Like the Jubilee Line in London, forever racing across its tracks, with its bright headlights blinking and burning away, and its mere reflection flickering throughout the empty hallowed halls of its destination; with nobody to stop it. Not even a superhero you expect to rush in and save the scene last minute. Nobody.

A crash then a thud, right into the ground. I finally got my conscience to catch up to me, putting a stop to my endless thoughts.

I had always wanted this... right? It was his fault. That blinding angel, whose happy cheering voice and loving 'good mornings' brought ecstasy to my life, especially when I would peek my eyes out from under the covers. His sweet 'I love you's' and annoying antics kept me awake for countless nights, leeching off his ever adoring company. His random fits of laughter, anger, and sadness were something I once comforted or influenced extensively when he needed it the most. His big, round, beautiful eyes staring into my gray and empty, cold ones. They always shone like bright bulbs of planets lost in the sky; dreaming big. I remember I could stare at them for ages.

But,

He breathed, for the final time, in my bony clawed hands while the knife plunged repeatedly into his frail body. His voice croaked, his mischievousness was far from sight. His emotions were silenced, his eyes would forever remain still, dry and un-closed. His rag-like body was tossed onto the floor with a heavy thump, smashing it into the once clean surface all teared up like pieces of paper carelessly torn without a purpose. Forever for my short enjoyment.

~

STY 2