No one understands me. No one can process these frightful thoughts that devour my otherwise innocent mind. Others may crave the succulent sting of coca cola on their tongue or even the gentle trace of a lover's index finger mount their delicate lips. I am not like them. I crave something entirely different. And I know, It's only a matter of time before I succumb to that squandering want.
I suppose it started when I first saw that man. The man was cloaked in revolting layers of plump, pink fat. The silvery saliva fell from the upturned corners of his mouth and his navy underwear was barely visible under the horrifyingly looming edge of his stomach. And yet, as he watched the students walk to school, he seemed frightfully content. Even more so when the orange neon lights of year ten girls strode confidently past his front window with their skirts an inappropriate length and their hair an inappropriate height. As much as I hated these girls, I was certainly daunted when I saw the look of pleasure on the man's face.
The weeks went by and the man started to bother me less, I learnt to ignore him and walk on, snubbing the animalistic grin and yellow teeth piercing through the dirt. However, one particular day changed my outlook on the man. He was less of a vile human and more of a creature. My eyes were caught on the bare walls and emptiness he surrounded himself with, there was nothing in his house. No curtains. No chairs. No colour. No television. The door was a rusty shade of putrid green and as I glanced through the upstairs windows...nothing. Then he looked at me. His eyes latched onto mine like a ravenous leech on vernal skin. His eyes were red and sunken, like he hadn't slept in literally a decade. His monstrous smile remained and his raw eyes were almost suggestive of demonic entities swarming like maggots beneath him. I walked on, unable to shake the feeling or pure terror from my upturned stomach.
That same night, I passed his house unavoidably. I had walked my younger sister's friend home and, unless I wanted to venture the deep, dark cuts of Blyth, I had to make quick and cautious way past the infernal house. To my relief, he was not stood at the window. To less of my relief, I also noticed there were no lights. I began running through my conservative mind, my heart thumping in my chest. Did he just not have lighting? Or was he free and roaming the sullen streets?
And then I was answered.
A sharp scream punctured the sinister air around me and I could have snapped my neck with the speed I looked to my right. A young girl was sprinting from the man. His flaps of flesh wobbled sickeningly as he ran and a throaty grunt followed each acute breathe. His bare feet were like bricks on concrete and his large head shook. I didn't need to see the girl to know that she was scared, with each frightened call for help I shivered and I reached into my bag for a weapon.
I did say I craved something very different. And this would give me the chance to finally pursue it.
I dropped my bag without a thought in the world and clenched the knife with a white fist. The heated wind raced through my hair as I engaged in this rivulet. My legs felt weightless against the encouraging air of hatred. It was seconds before I could pounce on this man and hug his thick neck. He struggled under my determined grasp but I fought his weak efforts and I slit his throat from one side to the other. The blood oozed like a crimson stream and we simultaneously dropped to the floor; him, clothed in the black robes of death, and I, draped in the alleviated fires of victory. The girl too, was relieved, but retracted behind an enormous hedge in fear. I could feel myself sinking into his stomach and so I jumped from the monster.
It was as if the feeling had consumed me completely, I dropped to the floor and plunged the knife into his abdomen. I could feel one thousand bones breaking under the handle and my hands were drenched in a waxy red. The blade tore from stomach to chest like acid in the mines of sulphur. The dense stream began to burn and I liked it; the sensational 'squelch' noise of silver in flesh and the sound of blood dripping copiously onto the solid floor. The crunch of bones and ligaments and muscles and the occasional squirts of plasma and tissue fluid. Who knew killing somebody would appease someone this much. And who knew the smell of iron rich liquids molesting my senses would be so...gratifying
