𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬.

iii.

▂

THROAT SLITS.

"am i still a fucking
sweetheart to you?!" the
small male loudly screamed
out into the otherwise deathly
silence, small sobs and groans
leaving his blood splattered
lips as he sat atop the limp,
lifeless body below him. a large
brick still in his violently shaking hands, pieces of brain matter and clumpy hair covering the brick completely.

january 13, 2012.
lee chinhaes first ever kill.
sadness, fear, anger; every single
thing you'd expect him to feel was then
completely void. he felt nothing
but joy the second he saw his
lovers pathetic skull caved in
for all the world to see. and the only
sadness he could feel was for the
thought that the whole world couldn't
see it... so he did the only reasonable
thing in his mind and dragged the
body out of the abandoned building
he was raped in, and into the then
empty street. from that day forward
chinhae lived for the thrill of death.
his heart would race at the simple
thought of watching the useless
life leave someone's eyes. no fear
of being caught, only loving the
cat and mouse game him and the
authorities had grown too used to.
this was this purpose, and he knew it.

▂