Maybe the blade cut me open, but that was how it showed it cared. By kissing my skin slowly and painfully. Gliding across my wrist hoping to kill me. It started to work its way down. Leaving a trail of kisses down my arm and with each one I became more numb. The kisses grew longer, deeper. More painful.
Everything began to spin. My vision starting to blur. But I knew that the blade would never kill me unless I wanted it to. And I wanted it to. I watched as the scarlet liquid was streaming down my arm. Dripping from my fingertips to the floor. Slowly making a puddle and mesmerizing me.
Finally, I felt the only thing I could see was red. Suffocating me. Barely able to breathe. I collapsed. Taking in the dark and relishing in it knowing this would be the last thing I remember. No one to save me. No sirens to hear. No last words to loved ones. Because they're dead, and I killed them with my bloody kisses. - su1c1d3r0om
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Demonic Death ( One shots)
HorrorOne shot stories from my own psychotic mind. Read at your own risk.
