I wake up regretfully. I guess I didn't cut deep enough, and I've lost my will to want to die now, so its pointless to try and force it.
I stand there, the knife in hand, still bloody from its last encounter, she was the second person that I have killed by accident.
I stand in the mirror looking at a monster. He moves when I move. He speaks when I speak. The monster,as you can tell, is me. I see a killer of the innocent, and the torturer of all. The master of sadistic humor. I am no human. I'm a monster.
I look in the mirror one last time... then I smash it and leave, to never look back. When I punched the mirror I felt a prick on my knuckle but I don't feel any pain even though the cut runs deep.
I feel detached of all feelings, I have no one to love and no one to love me. I wish to be dead. But the monster thinks different. It wants to kill, it's feels a rush we it does. I say all of this as if It isn't me. But it is and I like the hunt, and now I'll continue to do what I love most.
I wish it weren't true, it's sick and sadistic, but I can't seem to take the next exit.
I wish I didn't feel this anger so white hot that I can actually picture what I'll do to my next victem
I want it to stop I want it to go away.I want to die, but I know I won't. Satan himself seems to have other plans for me.
He wants me to do his dirty work and to be his play thing.
For once I don't mind. I take the knife and clean it of with a rag, and I look towards the body that was once my lover.
I go to her and start sawing at her limbs so they're easier to burn. I spent that whole night getting rid of what I could and collecting more firewood.
That night I burned the body of my loved one.
I clean the knife once more, then I tuck it in my pocket and I move on with the next pile of butchered limbs.
The flame burns bright, but the smell of burning flesh ruins the image of the beautiful fire.
The pile is now gone and the flames almost out, dimming with every passing minute. like how my heart is getting darker as I replay the moments over and over in my head, until I grow tired of the blame game.
I leave the cabin never turning back, to return never.
YOU ARE READING
Redwood Asylum
HorrorHave you ever been hurt so badly that you feel as if you're on the brink of insanity? Well that's how I felt when I was sent away to "get help". The white coats might as well have put me on death row. But I think I would have prefered death over R...
