Fatal Infatuation [18+]

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I hummed a quiet tune to myself as I put my black leather gloves on, adjusting them around my fingers. Micah, who was bound to a wooden chair in front of me, was still sound asleep. I leaned against the table and watched him, waiting for him to wake up. I was going to do disgustingly inhumane things to him, and I needed his energy to recover. 

And, oh, did he sleep. He slept like a baby, his blond strands falling over his bruised and swollen face, unknowing of what's to come. He probably thought that everything that happened so far was just a bad nightmare, a figment of his imagination. How disappointed he'll be to wake up to me stood in front of him. After a while, I thought he was in a coma, and I picked up the glass of water on the table next to me and splashed it onto his face. 

With a loud cough and a gasp, he stirred himself awake, struggling in the rope. 

"Good morning," I grinned, pushing my curls back. 

His voice was hoarse from dehydration and sleeplessness, and his eyes were half-lidded and swollen. "Wh-What... Where am I?"

I let out a breathy chuckle and gestured to the room, "See for yourself." 

His eyes widened and he immediately whipped his head around, his gaze searching every corner of the dimly lit, concrete room. When his gaze settled on the table in front of me, his face twisted into one of despair and pure terror. A look that filled me with an inexplicable satisfaction. His breaths became shallow and frantic as he looked at the various weapons and objects laid out across the wood. Knives, guns, drills, screwdrivers, ropes, hammers, chainsaws, and clevers that all sparkled under the single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. 

He let out a shrill scream, his body shaking within the confines of the rope. 

I placed my hands against the arms of the chair, crouching down to his length and getting dangerously close to his face. "We are underground and these walls are soundproofed, no one is going to hear you." I frowned mockingly, looking into his tear-filled eyes. 

"But," I sighed and stood back up, "You can continue screaming. Get it all out of your system, pretty boy." 

"Why are you doing this!?" He shouted, attempting to kick his legs out in front of him. However, the rope around his ankles was too tight and he wound up hurting himself in the process.

"You hurt something I love." I answered plainly, turning my back to him as I looked through the table for a suitable weapon. 

He let out an exasperated scoff, raising his head to stare at my back. "You mean that cafe slut? She doesn't mean anything to me,"

I turned my head to the side as I listened to him ramble, my jaw permanently clenched

"You're doing this all for her, and she doesn't even know you exist! I mean, I thought you were sick at first, but you're seriously sick. She's not worth it, and you know it." 

I cringed dramatically at his words, picking up the butcher's knife in front of me. "You're not the smartest, are you, Micah?" 

When he saw the shiny object in my hands, his face dropped and he tried his hardest to scoot away from me, but I held the chair in place with little to no effort. "This might hurt," I warned, using the tip of the knife to cut open his shirt. 

His breathing quickened and I frowned in disapproval as I stared at his body. "You are far too skinny for her." 

Without warning, I moved the blade down his stomach, cutting through the first layer of his skin, making him cry out in pain. "She deserves someone strong," 

"Someone... built." I cut deeper, angling the knife down. 

"And you are not those things, Micah. You are a skinny, pathetic, disgusting vermin, and I'm doing the world a favor by taking you out of it." 

He could only writhe and screech in pain. I forced his mouth open and grabbed his tongue with two of my gloved fingers, pulling it out and cutting through it slowly. His eyes were wide and terrified as he watched my hands work, and the gargling sounds coming from the bottom of his throat were ungodly. 

"Hell, I'm surprised someone hadn't done it sooner," I laughed, letting the wet and bloodied muscle hit the ground with a squelching noise. 

After I was sure he couldn't use his tongue to say more revolting things about my Evelyn, I placed the blade of the knife back inside of the hole in the stomach and brought it down again, cutting even deeper, cutting through everything. I reached in with my gloved fist and roughly moved it around, feeling his warm, wet insides, and humming pleasantly at the wet noises. I sloshed my fist inside of him and unclenched it, using my other hand to open the wound even wider, and wrapping my fingers around his intestines. 

Once I had a good grip on them, I pulled them out, causing the veins in my arms to bulge at the pressure. I kept pulling and tugging until i heard a satisfying snipping sound and I knew they had been disconnected from his body. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't hear the sweet sound of his screaming anymore. All the color had drained from his face and his eyes remained open, his jaw agape as blood continuously dripped down from the wound where his tongue used to be. It was a sight. 

I sighed and stood back with my filthy hands on my hips as I stared at my artwork. Finally, I approached him again and leaned him back slightly so I could carve something in his chest. 

'E
 V
 E
 L
 Y
 N'

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