Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Chapter 1 | (Edited)

(Listen to the song attached: Game of Survival for better experience of the chapter)

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Mature content: Gore

The world is nothing but a fucked up joke wrapped like a innocent white rose watered with blood. Every lie is another thorn used as needles to stitch the whole rotten thing together. It tells you to love, to trust, to forgive— not because any of that shit is real, but because there's nothing more satisfying than the prey that walks straight into a predator's grasp willingly deluding themselves that they found safety.

Then later realises where it is— and tries to escape, run, fight, and beg. It starts clawing at the walls of a cage it never knew it was trapped in until it was too late. And that's what makes the hunt worth it. The kill? That's overrated... over in a few seconds. But that fear and the desperate hope that maybe— just fucking maybe it can still escape?

That's what makes a kill ecstatic.
Death is just a conclusion. Anyone can pull a trigger.
Despair is the performance. Breaking a soul before you break a body is what makes the kill fun.

The basement of the outhouse was fucking freezing. Damp concrete swallowed every sound, every scream and every nerve-rackingly irritating plea for mercy...Too bad mercy was never on the table. I didn't have any to give especially to people who fucked up my work. And, as if the place wasn't already enough of a cluster-fuck, every one of these torture paradises seemed to come with the same final little touch... the metallic stench of old blood, sweat, piss, and rust permanently soaked into the walls. No amount of bleach could scrub it away. It clung to the air, seeped into your lungs, and settled at the back of your throat like a bad fucking memory.

Hell on Earth.

A festering shithole that had long outlived its usefulness. Once this particular job was over, I'd torch the entire fucking place. Not because I gave a damn about what happened here, but because I was starting to notice the stains more than the pathetic sobbing echoing through the room. And if the evidence was distracting me enough to bore me...