Emotionless | Phan

~1~

Phil

The warm-icy blood trickled out of the knife wound, which deeply pierced his abdomen, as he fell to the damp, stained floor.

Lifeless.

A pool of death surrounded the victim as the last breaths fell out of his mouth becoming slower and slower. Until nothing.

Phil had succeeded, again.

He knew this boy quite well, but that didn't stop him, that was the point; they became boyfriends to get Phil closer to the enemy, regardless Phil held no emotional attachment to any of these boys since betrayal was Phil's best friend and his only aim.

In fact, Phil was addicted to this sort of thing: Revenge, Murder, Pain, Hatred, Betrayal.

He had to feed these enemies before they took over him, like a sacrifice to please his sick mind, it was the only way. The only was he could feel anything except emptiness inside his heart. He does it for the pleasure, the adrenaline, the expression on their face in their final moments. He didn't particularly care about this specific boyfriend, he was just like all the others, a worthless victim. Hardly any friends, desperate and a bad relationship with parents, in fact he was lonely and longing of companionship. Perfect. A perfect victim, allowing him to get away with anything and everything.

Usually, he would take more time over these things, but Chris found the plan. It was too late, he had seen all the things Phil was going to do to him. Phil had no choice but to kill him right there and then. He hadn't even fucked him yet, shame.

Phil would spend weeks planning out the perfect time, location and weapon, just to make sure he thought about every detail. But not this time, now he had to run as he was certain his neighbours heard the heart wrenching scream Chris let out and that would mean the police would soon be arriving, here, at Phil's house, under Phil's name.

"Shit" he thought to himself, he needed to get out of here. With the deceased body.

He picked up the lifeless corpse and hurled it carelessly over his shoulder, picking up the knife as well. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't just going to leave the murder weapon, dripping with blood and covered in fingerprints. He hid anything incriminating and moved a cabinet over the warm deep-coloured blood, knowing the police won't give the house a thorough search. He slid open the dusty, stiff window in the corner of his small room and climbed through, quickly yet unnoticeably, luckily he had a forest directly behind his house which he could escape into and hide whenever he needed.

After running for a couple of minutes through the overgrown, tangled foliage in the woods he arrived at the abandoned, decrepit cabin which was home to many of Phil's murders and victims, as it is so deep in the forest and so densely covered in moss and ivy it was practically invisible and isolated, as well as completely unknown to everyone except Phil. He had bashed in the door many years back so he could open it with ease now as he had broken the lock. The small, neglected, derelict cabin appeared even more sinister on the inside as the windows were stained yellowish-brown with decades old dust, and the occasional broken window meant the wind blew an eerie song throughout as though sining the tune of Death. Rotting leaves were decomposing on the floor along with the bodies buried under the cabin which left a horrid stench of death and it lingered in Phil's nose making him gag with discomfort.

He dropped the body on the rotting wood floor and sat down in a corner, panting and stained with blood. In the distance he could hear the slight echo of sirens as they blared across the forest. Phil dumped the body and headed back into town after catching his breath, making sure no one was watching as he left the confines of the shed.

He made his way slowly out of the forest stepping over vines and sticks which had been placed precariously as though trying to trip Phil up. As the late Autumn breeze bit at Phil's bare skin he put his hoodie on which was tied tightly around his waist, squeezing the life out of him. His hands were covered in dry blood but he didn't care and continued to mindlessly walk into the small, boring and seemingly uneventful town.

He reached a small, secluded and lonely park. Sitting on a swing, he began to think about everything, including what happened so many years which led to the turning point in his life.

He blamed his psychopathic tendencies on a boy that stole his happiness long ago and ran away with it forever. Ryan was the first person to ever make Phil feel truly happy, but as soon as Phil talked to anyone except Ryan, he got jealous and made Phil feel guilty. He took away Phil's freedom and made him feel trapped, then one day he just left town, he didn't say where he was going or if he was coming back yet Phil waited for months and months and months, because as much as Ryan made Phil feel like shit, Ryan was the only person in the world who made Phil feel wanted. When he left that dull morning, it felt as though Phil had been stabbed directly in the heart. It was the most painful thing Phil had ever experienced, like being trampled on by crowds of people, stepping on you and using you... and then the pain faded away. Along with the happiness, the laughter, the love.

Phil must have been sitting on the swing for an hour, just thinking, because ominously dark clouds began to flood over the horizon and steal the sky away from the world, leaving darkness and dread as clouds looked over Phil, watching him.

Phil was about to continue walking when a sulking boy slowly meandered past, staring intently at the floor and dragging his feet behind him, solemnly.

He had a quiet beauty hidden behind a wall of sadness.

A perfect victim.