Paranoia

Correct!- what occupied the space before me was merely a lit candle, nothing more, nothing less... Or so you may think. You see it's a matter of perspective; to most they see no further than the tranquil, gentle wavering of the flame, and the hot dripping wax. Yet to me, I saw so very much more...

    I observed the brutality and fury of the flame- the flickering representing my soul in its most excellent form. 

    Snapping my vision away from the candle, I began to stare out of the window just behind. Twisted vines trailed down one side of the murky glass, protecting the incandescent moon from my unwelcoming presence. I expected to see cobwebs to perfect the clichéd image of horror, but to my surprise there were none. In all honesty, the house we were in was rather well preserved, not at all how you'd expect. The perfect condition for what I had planned, but before I tell you I must ask one thing...

     Can I trust you?

      I should expect so, my love, as you possess the utmost craving for your life. You are my only need and lust in this cruel, bitter world. I will do anything to protect you, anything. I must tell you of this secret but I need confirmation of your desire for secrecy. Promise?

     He's going to kill you!- who? Your father. I heard him. He has it all planned. Oh! in the most horrific of ways. And so, here we are, in the darkest hours of the night- together. Stay close to me.

      It's my duty to protect.

      Darkness envelopes us as I blow out the candle; not a single light to guide us to our fate. Don't worry, dear, soon your eyes will adjust. You'll soon understand how welcoming the darkness is, it conceals what we don't wish to see. It is our friend.

     Take my hand and follow me up these stairs, but watch your step; every couple will creak extremely loudly, and we don't want to awaken your father, do we? That's it, darling, don't make contact with this step- it's the loudest of them all. How do I know? You perplex me with your questions- anyone of my obvious intellect would experiment to see which stairs creak the loudest, anyone of my intellect would have planned a consequence for every single, minute possibility. I am somewhat disgusted in your underestimation of my expertise. You doubt me, don't you? It's crazy to expect you to believe me, after all the one who wishes to hurt you is the one who should love you, but I love you and I want to preserve you.

      It's my duty to protect.

     Stop!- do you hear that? It's his spiteful, vicious, narcissistic heart beating. Oh! it is so vile, so disgusting. Do you hear its attempt to show innocence? It's making a mockery of me. You don't hear it? I'm not at all surprised, over the years I have adapted heightened senses, particularly in hearing barely audible sounds. Consider yourself lucky that you aren't listening to it. 

     Wait here, my love. You need not see this. 

     Alone. Perfect. I continue to traipse along the wooden floorboards until I reach that pathetic man's room, I can already feel him trembling, and his breathing becoming erratic. Calm and composed, I glare his half-asleep body, he knows what's coming. I fully open the door and tip-toe through until I reach his side. Call me vindictive, I simply see this as fulfilling my duty. 

     "You disgust me." I whisper, trailing my eyes along the full length of his frame. His heart beats increasing in volume and speed until they became unbearable to listen to. "You vile, sick bastard!"

      My hands lunge for his neck. Grabbing, biting, clenching. His heart. His abominable, obnoxious, self-conceited, loathsome, repugnant heart. Still beating, even after his wheezing and struggling had stopped. 

     Reaching for the knife in my back pocket, I slice the corpse open, revealing the heart. I can still hear the beating, but this particular one is still, not the slightest movement.

     Beating. Beating. Thumping. Beating.

     You!- it wasn't him, it is you. Your plan to hurt me? Your heart? Of course, it makes sense. Overwhelm me with love, all from your centre organ. You're going to hurt me?- NO!

   Turning to face you, I watch, I stare, I observe. Hidden in plain sight. Beating. Thumping. Beating. Thumping. I'm a fool. All my planning? My intellect? Worthless!

    An uncontrollable smirk spread across my face as I watched your thick, red blood poor from your chest. A stab to your heart, your love, your decoy. How could you?

    Thumping. Thumping. Beating. Thumping.

     Your attempt was merely an amateur's first try. Yet it's also your last. I promise to hold a celebration in your honour- shame you won't be an attendee. 

     Thumping.

      Beating.

      Thumping.

        ...