Word Count: 153
As the week continues the brat pushes me closer and closer to my breaking point. With every word he speaks to my precious the more I want to hurt him. He needs to learn not to play with my things. Soon. Very soon.
Today is Thursday, his last school day. I found him in the courtyard, reading a book. I sat next to him by the fountain.
"Hey, whatcha reading?" I asked cheerfully.
He looked at me. "To Kill a Mockingbird." I could tell me was hesitant to talk to me.
I had to gain at least some trust before I can do anything to him. "Look I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you since you got here. I just get a bit shy around new people." I smile.
The jerk warms up a smile. It seems this act is working on his unintelligent, small brain.
I continue to talk with him, earning more of his trust. And after about an hour he was willing to stay with me longer.
Since the school day was over, I led him to an old abandoned warehouse.
"Why are we here? It's old, and dirty." He gazed around in disgust. Funny, that's the same way I see him. I giggle to myself quietly.
I bust open the metal door, resulting in a loud bang. "I come here for quite time. I find this building calming and beautiful." Telling him some truth felt strange. Like I gave him my armor off my body in a war.
Logan just nodded and followed me inside the dark warehouse. He walked around, inspecting every corner. Good, I need him distracted for now.
I take off my backpack and place it on the ground. Kneeling, I open the bag and take out my cherished friend, my pocket knife, its been with me since I was seven years old. I'm now seventeen. Hiding her in the back of my pants I catch up to the blue haired boy.
His back is still facing my front. I wrap my arm around his pale neck. Hearing him gasp I smile.
"Sarah? What are you doing?" A tinge of panic in his voice.
I can't help but chuckle. "Ah, you really don't know?" I grab the knife and poke it against his fleshy stomach. "You should, seeing how you've spent so much time with her! My sweetheart."
I feel his breathing accelerate. "What?" He hardly gets the word out due to stutters.
"Now you'll learn to leave her alone," I drag the blade against the fabric of the boy's clothes, spanning the threads. "Catalina is mine! And always will be!"
Heat builds in my stomach, fueling my anger. Remembering how he spoke to her, touched her, looked at her!
Letting out a growl, I cover his mouth. He starts screaming.
"Shut up!" I press my hand against his mouth harder, efficiently stopping sound.
Anger takes over my body and I plunge my blade into his stomach, earning a scream. I drag it out, blood overs my hand and spills to the concrete floor.
I push his limp body to the floor, watching him lay there. Beautiful blood pools around him, and starts lathering my shoes. I fall to my knees, blood soaks my hands and legs.
Yes, he's gone. He can no longer see my precious, my sweetie. Now she's all mine! Mine! Mine! Hahaha!!
MINE!
