My Addiction - Tom kaulitz

Sick and Twisted

++Tos pov++

I sit in the darkest corner of the room, my eyes fixed on Angels unconscious, naked body. She's still tied up to the bed, and I tied the rope so tight that now her wrists are swollen and raw. I continue inspecting her, taking in her long curly hair, some curls knotted into the rope, her busted lips and the large bruise forming just above her eyebrow where I struck her with the gun. That moment continuously replays in my head, the soft thump her exhausted body made when she passed out, and the way she looked up at me with widened eyes knowing that either way I was going to cause her pain, and the way she tugged at the ropes in a manic fit trying desperately to break free. I admire her strength, and her will to live, but the more I hear her talk back or feel her pushing me away, the more I want to crush her and watch her crumble to pieces. Nobody understands how ethereal it feels to have another being become so terrified at just your words, or the slight raise of your arm. Having someone cringing at your touch is a feeling that many people would say is unwanted, oh but how wrong they are, I could say its the only thing I want, I can't help but let out untamed shaky breaths as I watch someone tremble beneath my fingertips. 

The thing about having someone become terribly afraid because of something you did, gives you all the power to destroy the only world they know, to darken their light, and to collapse the mental barriers they made for themselves, so they become so weak, so feeble that the only thing they can do is submit. As I smirk to myself and conjure up my plans for Angel, she begins to stir in my bed, her heavy eyelids flick open hurriedly and she swallows in an attempt to moisten her dry mouth. She forgets about the restraints and yanks her arms forward, she yelps in agony as her already chafed wrists rub against the nylon rope. Her arms twitch and shake as she tries to relieve the pain by pushing her wrists back up, tiny trickles of blood begin to trail the tender marks formed from her wrists to her forearm, which irritate the sensitive surface further by warming it up. She curses quietly, grinding her teeth in torment, as the muscles in her forearm spasm as a result of having the blood flow cut off for multiple hours.

I stand up from my chair and work my way over to her as she's focused on her arms

"Morning" she snaps her head around, and upon seeing me her eyes widen in hysteria. Her body freezes, the only thing moving being her spasming arms

"You're quiet today" I mock, as I approach the bed as slowly as I can so I can savour her look of horror. She stays silent, as if she's completely shut down in fear. I reach a hand to the rope and begin untying it, purposely rubbing it against her skin to hear her sharp inhale. Once she's free of the restraints, I wrap my hand around her inflamed wrist, squeezing the more reddened areas

"Please stop." she splutters out in a fit of pain as her fingers twitch

"Why should I?" I question, eager for her to make a snarky remark so I can inflict more pain on her

"Haven't you put me through enough?" she whispers 

"Hardly" I throw her arm down, her bottom lip quivers as she quickly snatches it up and cradles it to her chest. I bite my lip as I await her response, however she stays quiet and keeps her gaze facing the floor to avoid eye contact.

 I wait, just itching for her to hit me and argue with me, but still, she doesn't open her mouth, not once, or move her arms or legs. In a rage, I stand up and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I wait on the opposite side with my ear pressed against the door incase she calls me a name, but instead, I'm met with the sound of huffing and chocking, her sniffles and cries are muffled by her weakened hands as she thinks she's alone. Pathetic. Truly pathetic. 

I walk down the winding stairs to find Bill who's sat on the couch with a glass in his hand 

"How'd it go?" he asks as I sit beside him, still clouded with anger

"Not good." I answer in a fed up manner

"She stab you again?" He chuckles, calmly sipping on his glass of wine

"No. You'd know about it if she did" I joke back

++Angels pov++

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck happened? I sit on the now messy bed, clutching my arms to my chest as salty tears drop off of my nose and onto the duvet below me. I tried to muffle my cries, however I can't seem to deafen the sounds of my soul being crushed. Every inch of my body aches, my neck, my legs, my back and obviously my arms. They look as if Tom took a cheese grater to them. I don't get why bad things always happen to me. Where did I go wrong? 

All I can remember is the sound of Toms sickening voice, and the way his eyes became pits of darkness in a matter of minutes. The way the comforting orange reflected on his gun, a gun that can take away someones life with just the pull of the trigger, a weapon so deadly that if one is pulled out in a public space everyone flees, a weapon that takes away the light from peoples life. However, light managed to reflect from a gun, yet not from Toms eyes. I don't know Tom, not in the slightest, but from what I've been through, I can say he, in some ways, can correlate to a gun. In the ways that he is careless with other peoples lives, or the way he clearly has no empathy or regret for the people he hurts, or the way he so gracefully destroys someones life with a few words or actions. So, in some ways, Tom can relate to a gun. I know it's weird relating a human to an object, but thus far I do not see Tom as a human. How can I? 'Oh yeah he busted my forehead open with a gun, but I still consider him to be in the same mental state as I am.'   No, absolutely not. 

I swear to God, I'm going to kill that man. I'm going to make him feel everything I've felt but ten times worse. How stupid I was to have thought that he could help me, how naive I was to expect to have kindness returned to me. Just goes to show that I couldn't, and still can't trust anyone. Him and Bill are going to suffer. And I will make sure of it. I'll watch with the same sadistic smirk Tom had last night. I'll crush each and every bone in their bodies, starting from their toes and I'll work my way up until I get to their skulls. I just need a plan. I need this to go perfectly. I need to be two steps ahead at all times, ready to pounce as soon as I get them where I want them.