𝙩𝙮𝙨𝙝 𝙤𝙣𝙚-𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨

7. bellyache

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Murderer! Tyler

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It was quiet except for the heavy breathing escaping through chapped lips, the room was cloaked in darkness but he knew where he was without needing to flick on a light or burn a candle. The brunets damaged hands vigorously dug through a basket filled to the brim with things he's taken from his victims, muttering out breathless words that easily dissipated into the air.

"Where's my mind, where's my mind, where's my m-"

"-maybe it's in the gutter."

A raspy voice up to a whisper spoke, causing the brunet to snap his head in the direction in a heartbeat, curling his fingers around a cloth before turning his attention back to the basket and whispered back, "where I left my lover."

The voice spoke back up with sputtered coughs following it, "w-what?"

The brunet heavily sighed and snatched his favourite knife from beside him, making the short trip to his bed that laid his victim chained up and pressed the knife to their neck, "I question why I kept you alive."

His victim didn't seem phased and closed their eyes, "I hope you go to hell."

Tyler barely rolled his eyes and sliced their neck from one side to the other, hearing his victim choke up on their own blood before silence took over and only his voice was left, "I'll see you there."

-

Light was flooded into his studio once morning had peaked over the horizon, his body laid limp on his bed with his eyes fixated on the concrete ceiling. He'd taken care of the body a few hours ago but had yet to clean up his actions, his clothing soaking up the pool of blood like rags until only deep red covered his clothes and skin.

Ragged breaths escaped him as he sat up and took in his surroundings, his apartment wasn't near clean with blood stains covering the floor and clothing strung about.

Tyler didn't know how his life came to this but he knew he was way too deep to just turn around and go back, he had killed six people in a matter of three months and already had his next victim sat out and ready to be taken. Tyler's boyfriend had been a victim to such actions of his and it was a mistake, a complete and utter mistake and maybe, just maybe if he didn't listen to his own thoughts and inner demons, his boyfriend would still be alive and thriving. It's a constant reminder for him with his nightmares replying over and over of how his knife so easily sliced open and disfigured his boyfriend, how the deep red blood soaked through his boyfriend's dark roots and dyed them such a crimson red.

A sigh slipped through his lips and he started to chew on his fingernails, "I'm too young to go to jail," he muttered out with annoyance, "thought that I'd feel better."

Tyler grabbed his knife and stuffed it in his jean pocket, ignoring his clothes that were covered in blood and heading out to find his unlucky victim that would only survive until he said otherwise, maybe he should let his victim stay alive longer but just thinking about that gave him a bellyache.