Creepypasta Zodaics

Scenario #26: The Bloody Painter8 And Leo

*requested by @ijustwantfood24*

more to love.

Two months ago, days before Helen and I's one year anniversary, my passion for writing had majorly increased and my creativity shot through the rough. My best friend gave me a brand new laptop as a birthday gift three weeks after I came up with the idea for my first book. Now, at present time, I am about seven chapters in.

The novel I am writing is about a woman who comes across a serial killer without knowing she was his next target; he takes her, and after endless pain and discomfort, the two slowly realize they're both unacceptably in love. My story was inspired by my liking towards crime and serial killer stories, and surprisingly, Helen encourages me to write my story since he's into the same things as me. He might be much more into killers and crime than I am, but nonetheless, I love the support he gives me.

The only trouble I've been having the more I write is difficulty in explaining killing or fighting scenes, as well as tactics for the killer.

"Hey, baby?" Helen, who was sitting down on my bean bag with a sketch pad in his hand, looked up at me with the blue eyes I fell in love with. "Can you help me figure something out for a little gruesome scene in this chapter?"

He nodded, setting the book and pencil down on the ground. He pulled the second desk chair over beside me and I looked at him.

"So this is two chapters after he kidnapped her and locked her in the storage room. She got out, miraculously, but walked out at the wrong time. She sees him in the living room, circling around a young man tied to his chair, and he's just torturing him. He's about to stab him, but I don't know how many stabs it would take to kill a man. Do you have any idea how many it would take, since you really do your research?" I asked, giving my boyfriend a smile as I watched him hum in response.

Helen leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "It all depends on where you want to him to stab his victim. They could die within seconds, minutes, or hours. If you want him to kill the guy off instantly, stab him in the head. Side, top, back; don't matter. It goes through the brain and there's no second of life left. Now if you want a relatively quick death, have him stab the guy in the heart or have him slice his throat. Otherwise, if you want them to have a slow and painful death; stab him in the gut once or twice, slice open his arms or legs to let him bleed out, or just have him go ham on any places other than vital organs."

Slightly taken aback, my mind froze as I stared at him smirking. He knew he had impressed me, but my only concern about the information he had given me was how the hell he knew all of it and seemed happy to know it. It sent chills down my spine, seeing as he was proud of having this knowledge.

Nonetheless, I smiled at him and nodded. "Okay. Thanks, babe," I said, grabbing the collar of his white T-shirt and bringing his lips to mine for a few seconds.

"No problem, lovely." He looked down at the watch on his hand and then looked up again. I frowned, pushing my bottom lip forward. 

"You have to go already?" I asked. Helen took my hand in his and nodded, letting out a sigh.

"Unfortunately. I'll be back later tonight, though; I promise," he said, bringing the backside of my hand up to his lips and slowly trailing the kisses up my arm until he stopped at my lips. Once he pulled away, he gave me a peck on the top of the head as he stood. We smiled at each other. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Four hours have passed ever since I continued writing with the help of Helen, and I was now cuddled up in a blanket on my sofa downstairs. My favorite Disney movie was on, but I unfortunately made it through twenty minutes before starting to doze off with my head in my hand.

I was just about to fall into my deep slumber for the night when the sound of the front door being unlocked echoed throughout the living room. My eyes opened and I rubbed them, a yawn escaping my lips as I sat up to look at who entered.

Helen closed the door and locked it as it was before, turning and seeing my tired form on the couch. "Hey," he said, walking over to the couch and plopping down beside me. His arms snuck around my waist and he laid between my legs, his head on my chest.

I smiled, resting my hands in his hair and twirling it between my fingers. "Hey."

A metallic smell suddenly filled my nostrils and I furrowed my brow. I looked around the room, glancing at the TV and seeing it was still playing the film. I looked at Helen, who's eyes were closed, signaling he was ready to rest like every other night he would visit. 

But tonight, he seemed a little off. It set an unpleasant feeling in my gut and I stopped playing with his hair.

Helen instantly noticed the lack of affection and he moved his head to look at me. I looked at him with suspicion written all over my face.

"Baby? Are you okay?" He asked, taking his hand and brushing the few loose strands of hair back behind my ear.

I took another silent whiff of the air to confirm where the smell of blood was coming from; but I already knew it was Helen. "Are you bleeding at all?"

He rose an eyebrow, moving away from my body to sit up. He fixed the bottom of his T-shirt quickly and shook his head. "Why would I be bleeding?"

Realizing he had fixed his shirt a little to fast, almost to hide something, I furrowed my brow even more at him and reached for the hem of his shirt. He flinched, but I could tell he didn't bother to fight since he knew I saw what he was.

Lifting up his shirt, I saw the weapon he had probably wielded before he came here sticking out of his pants. The blood was on the handle, which signaled my gut feeling was right; but the bloodied black gloves shoved into his front pocket gave it away even more.

I let his shirt drop as well as my hands, and as I looked up to him I could see tears welling up in his eyes. "Y-You're gonna leave me, aren't you? You know what I am, you-you don't trust me any more. Right?"

Grabbing his hand, I fixed my position so I was on my knees. 

"No," I said. And as I suspected, his teary eyes widened to the size of the Sun and he froze. I saw the chills form on his bare arms and he gasped. I gave him a small side smile. "I've always been into murders, serial killers, crimes; right? Why would it change if who I was with, was into the same things I was-- but was actually one? As insane as it sounds, I don't care that you kill people. I know I'm not used to it now, but I'm not going to doubt that I will end up loving you even more for this. I trust you more than I trust myself. That's not going to change any time soon."

A cheeky smile formed on his face and a tear fell from his frightened eye. I reached over and wiped the tear away. "I love you," he whispered, before pulling me in for a kiss.