Paranoia.
What a common word, really.
But never in the right context?
GB sighed. She looked over at the pile of letters on the floor next to her.
She hasn't touched them.
Not since the incident.
She jumps off her chair and begins pacing up and down. Intrusive thoughts, truly, were filling her head. Did she know how to abolish them? No. This was the first problem she didn't know how to solve.
The thoughts were unable to be worded, being honest. Each gets darker.
I suppose that means there's no choice but to give into the thoughts. A quest it is.
She runs down to the kitchen and jumps onto a chair. What's her selection? A knife is pitifully predictable, but anything bigger would be too heavy. She can't make a machine to do it. That'd be to obvious. She sighs, and takes the knife.
She walks out the shack of a house she dealt with. A cold night. The wind ran along her legs like a hand pushing her forwards. It climbed up her body, almost whispering to her.
This is when she realised how fucked up this is.
How awful this is.
She trembled at the thought, and began walking. No one would be out here. It's midnight. That's why it was easy.
So predictable.
GB flinched, looking around her for a brief moment. She's but paralysed to speak, and so lets out quiet fearful mutters.
All of this, so predictable. It's just gonna add to it when you've got the job done.
Paranoia.
It felt like she was being watched. Really.
She starts walking again, trembling much more violently.
And so she arrived.
GB didn't know what house it was. If anyone was home. But the window was wide open.
And she gets in.
And it was that easy.
"Okay, it's in and out. Focus, Golf Ball." She whispers to herself, trying to reassure away the corrupting fear inside her. But that fear reaches out, almost RIPPING HER OPE-
No.
She wont get scared this time.
It's not like the thoughts.
She quietly creeps up the stairs, opening the door of each room up there, before seeing an object comfortably asleep on a nice bed.
Golf Ball doesn't even process who. She just jumps forward, plunging the knife into the chest of said object.
Blood splashes over her face.
What has she done.
"What a mess I've made." She thinks aloud, ripping the knife out. It's like she was a doll. A mannequin. Someone was moving for her. And stabs the knife back in, this time twisting it around.
And snap back into reality, will you?
Golf Ball stares down at the object.
Tennis Ball.
She did this.
She killed him.
And there he was.
Staring back at her.
In fear.
And just like that, the thoughts fill her head.
Laughing.
He was laughing.
He
Was
Laughing.
She starts screaming, now ripping the knife out and stabbing it in different spots each time in a panic. Deep red was splashing everywhere. The substance stained her face. How interesting.
And with a final stab, she cuts a deep tear down Tennis Ball's corpse. His organs spilled out his body as if on command.
She stares down at them.
Had she eaten lately?
Hunger.
She was hungry.
She didn't have anything at home.
Golf ball slowly pulls out the liver of Tennis Ball and takes a bite into it. She doesn't have a second thought. It was the best thing she fucking ate in weeks.
After the liver, it was a lung. After the lung, she took a bite into the small intestine, which burst inside her mouth.
A delectable meal.
Then, she snaps back. Completely.
She glares down at TB, and steps backwards, falling off the bed. Her body ran itself back to her house. But not like last time. This time because of pure terror. But, how worth it, it was. She shakes her head, slamming her door behind her. Without thinking, she starts throwing up on the floor beside her. What felt like eternity passed, indigested organs slipping through her mouth. And with that, she stood up, pacing more nervous than ever.
How the hell could she get out of this?!
She can't frame anyone now. She can't make it seem like suicide.
Suicide.
THAT'S IT.
If she was dead, no way could she be considered the one who brutally murdered (not to mention ate) TB!
With a maniacal grin, GB climbs up her stairs, and stares down out the window at the top of the attic. She climbs onto the ledge of the window, and stares down.
It's a long was down, is she really gonna jump?
But no second thoughts were in her head. Always a straight thinker. 1 idea. Only 1 way to go. 1 straight path.
She leaps down, the fall wasn't that long, but the head first falling didn't help.
As she fell, she thought about how badly she fucked up.
Why live if your closest died?
What's the point?
Especially if you killed him?
Facing the facts, all she could really do.
And so the floor approached below her.
A loud crash filled the neighbourhood.
...
...
It was dark.
Pitch black.
But then there was a light.
She tries to move towards it, but something grabbed her legs.
Was that it?
Was she stuck?
But no.
That couldn't be it.
That doesn't make sense!
Where was she?
Where the fuck was she.
Attempting to escape the grasp of the tentacle-like substance, GB started to tense her muscles in her legs, but to no result. She just had to stay there.
But.
But.
Her legs were pulled apart, and she could feel her body cracking softly.
That's all that filled the darkness.
Screaming wasn't an option.
The cracks only got louder, until there was a split.
For a minute, she stayed conscious.
For a minute, she could see two directions of darkness, infinitely reaching out.
But soon after,
She couldn't.
L bozo died🤣🤣😂🤣🤣😂🤣🤣
