Slasher imagines

Bradley Blue

It's been months now, and you still couldn't decide if you were happy or sad you were still alive. Maybe you weren't physically alive, but being a curse destined with a fate of killing and inflicting pain on others was close enough. You didn't care for being a pacifist or a homicidal maniac. Honestly, you just wanted a peaceful afterlife after having to endure such torture from the people around you for so long before your death. Your soul was trapped in the knife that you used to slit your own wrists. You even slit your throat to be sure you couldn't be resuscitated! Whenever someone would buy or just hold the object, it was now your job to curse them to death. Literally.

It's been months, yet you still haven't killed this guy. His name was Tyron. He was mixed with dreads hanging to his butt, and he had a playboy/bad boy demeanor about him. Despite him cheating on his girlfriend, despite him being an absolute asshole to everyone around him, you just couldn't find it in your heart to present yourself to him and haunt him. Haunt him until he uses that knife to slit his own throat. The knife he bought at a pawn shop for cursed and voodoo objects. Of course, after your death, your parents sold all of your belongings wherever they could. It didn't surprise nor upset you much.

You huffed as you leaned against the bar wall and watched Tyron flirt shamelessly with the hooker looking woman on his arm. You were uncomfortable in such a foreign environment. The loud music, the stench of sweat and vomit, alcohol and perfume, it was all too much. You hated it. You wanted nothing more than to leave this bastard place and go outside, maybe to that park you loved so much. But you were a curse..and you had a job you needed to do. The thought only made you sink deeper into your bloody hoodie. Even the afterlife wasn't kind to you. You couldn't change from the clothes you killed yourself in, even if you wanted to. They weren't sticky with blood anymore, thank goodness, but they sort of reek of iron and salt. And the deep slit on your wrists and neck had dried up by now. They only itched occasionally.

As you sighed and hung your head to look at the floor, you didn't notice the boy lean against the wall right next to you. "You know, that guy would have been dead months ago if it were up to me." His voice caught you off guard, and you visibly jumped. Your head snapped in the direction of his voice, and you stared at the boy wide-eyed and mouth agape. He had sunglasses on despite the dark bar, and he had messy black hair that looked soft to the touch. He adorned a blue jacket and a shirt you couldn't quite make out thanks to the dark corner you were sulking in. His pants looked black as well, and he had some nice-looking kicks to finish the look off. But what really caught your attention was the blood soaking his mouth, down his neck, and some on his shirt. "He's pretty annoying, don't ya think?" He looked to you, shrugging nonchalantly as he lazily pointed his finger at the guy.

You couldn't find it in yourself to reply. Was he talking to you? Of course he was - you two were the only ones in the corner! He had to be talking to you..but how could he see you? You haven't shown yourself to anyone, and people could only see you if you wanted them to. But other than that, you could be walking down the street as you followed behind Tyron, and no one would glance your way. It got lonely after the first week. Even if you didn't have friends or family to talk to when you were alive, at least they would give you a glance!

"You alright, sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost~" He chuckled. He cocked his head at your continuous lack of response. He nodded his head as he reached into his jacket. "You probably have some questions, huh? Guess I might as well get comfortable." He shot you a smirk as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it up before putting the pack and lighter away. He leaned comfortably against the wall before taking a long drag before lazily turning his head in your direction. "So? What's the first thing you're gonna ask? Maybe how to finally kill that guy? Oh, what about- how to move the curse on to the next unlucky motherfucker?" He gestured with his hand holding the cigarette.