She stood over me with a hammer in her hand as I finally cried out in pain from her assault. The hammer smashed against my knee repeatedly while I thrashed around in my chains. How she had any idea of me being sensitive in my left knee, I had no idea.. But I'll give her credit for being a really persistent and crazy girl. So far she had just hurt me in the obvious places that would hurt anyone. Now, she was targeting my weak spots. First was my left arm that I had also broken, and that now was broken again beyond repair. I felt the bones shatter in both of my limbs as her cackle echoed.. pleading for help in my mind before the world turned black once again.
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The drive to Jess' house was fairly long since she lived out in one of the many fixer upper houses out in the countryside. Her house, however, was one of the most run down. That had appalled everyone that had found out where Jess lived; meaning everyone. It was called, "Baker's Hideout", and had a reputation for being a party house back in the 80's.
Did she want to.. do it? I hoped not. I wasn't psychologically ready for that. Heck, I wasn't physically ready to do that. The redness flushed back up my neck and face, causing Jess to giggle and pat my hand comfortingly. That made my blush worse, which made Jess concerned, and earned me a lecture on being so, "adorably shy all the time".
When we pulled into her driveway, I could smell the fear radiating off of myself. But it took one look from Jess to swallow that fear down and get out of her car as she already was walking up the front porch's stairs. She waited for me on the porch and grabbed my hand after I trudged my way to her, shaking her head at me and leading me in to her abode. My hands were trembling, which made Jess squeeze in reassurance, and that lead to me calming down just a little bit.
The tour was a quick one; it looked like a normal house that a family of 2 would live in. It was just Jess and her mom, so the house had a feminine touch to it. The walls were covered in baby pictures of Jess with her mom, Jess by herself, older pictures of her mom from when she was younger, and random paintings in the hallways. Their furniture was blood red and shiny, it looked like you would fall into a pool of blood when you sat down on any of it. And the kitchen was a mess. It was covered in chef utensils practically everywhere. Assortments of knives lined the counters, pots and pans of every size you could think of, and too much fresh produce to count.
Since the rest of the house looked normal, I half expected Jess' room to look the same. But, I was wrong, and her room looked like a museum of older era's music. Posters of The Beatles, The Beach Boys, KISS, Duran Duran, and countless others I briefly recognized. The posters were hung unevenly on the walls, I assumed covering holes or something, and there were shelves of neatly stacked books and movies that went up all the way to the ceiling. Jess had told me that both shelves were organized by author, title, by date, and alphabetically. I hadn't actually believed that she was serious, yet here they were in perfect order.
She had a purple shag carpet in front of her twin bed, that had a matching purple throw blanket and pillows. Her nightstand was spray painted purple with a purple lamp, and directly across from the bed was a large 63 inch screen tv. This was what Jess called her, "Movie Marathoner", that she practically lived in front of when she wasn't reading. While I was looking around at the photos on Jess' obviously purple dressers, she had put in a movie and was beckoning me forward to sit down next to her on her bed. Just as I had managed to get my face to a semi-normal color, it was now turning back to a beautiful shade of red.
I hesitantly sat down on the bed next to Jess and she snuggled up to my side, which resulted in me laying down farther until my head reached the pillows and her head was on my chest. I hadn't realized that I had been so tired, but apparently my eyes drifted shut at the beginning of the movie and I slept soundly until about 9 o'clock. Hurriedly, Jess had drove me home and given me a goodnight kiss. When she pulled away I hadn't understood the gigantic grin on her face, but I should have by looking at the little black dots on my body that were Jess' vulnerability markings...
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YOU ARE READING
The Beauty of Death
Teen FictionWhen your girlfriend is actually a serial killer, and you're her next victim, you can only pray to die as soon as possible.