psycho

1.

My lips feel like two heavy blocks of concrete pressed against each other. My lungs are swinging in my rib cage. The air is pressing down on me, and I feel like I can't breathe. Anger seeps deep in my veins, and hot flames lick at my skin. I grit my teeth so hard I can practically hear it grind bone on bone.

I stare at my delicate hands folded on my lap. I can't bear it anymore. My hands then shifted to the end of the bed, clutching at the mattress angrily. I'm not a doll. I'm not a toy. I'm not a puppet meant to entertain its puppeteer. I'm not here to play dress up and wear a stupid, skimpy outfit that consisted of only a thin tank top and tiny shorts. I feel exposed. Exposed to a man whom I don't even know. A man I already loathed. I want to rip the beautiful dark velvet curtains and sew them to my skin so that I am no longer exposed.

"Why do you look so serious sitting on the edge of our bed, sweetie?"

I look up and see him entering the room. The anger in my veins boil even further.

"Be a good girl to your new husband, won't you?" The ugly, burly man smiled. I want to drill my fist into his face. "You're a new bride, after all."

New bride. I hold the urge to vomit at his feet. I didn't want to marry him. I never wanted to. It was forced upon me. Forced by my parents. They didn't even hesitate to sell off their daughter like that. They never said goodbye to me the moment I stepped into the car with this man I have to call my husband albeit he's double my age. My parents were indulged by greed. Their minds clicked upon seeing this man because he's like a walking lottery. Now I am obliged to act my part that was thrusted to me with no choice.

I wonder how many parents in the world are willing to give up their daughter like that.

He walks towards me, and he reeks of alcohol. My lips twist into that of scorn the moment I discern him eyeing me up and down at all the parts my skin has been exposed to. He licks his bottom lip and slowly peels off his dirty jacket. Anyone would have been filled with anxiety and nausea if they were in my position. However, what I felt was pure hatred and the desire for vengeance. I wonder how he would look like with my hands wrapped around his throat as his veins pop under my grasp. I wonder how he would look like if I plunged a knife into his chest. I wonder how he would look like if I skinned him alive. I wonder—

"You're so pretty," he speaks, tone laced with lust, "so beautiful. Like a doll with hair resembling the richest slice of gold and eyes bright like sapphire."
"You're disgusting." I say. His words have no desireable effect on me.

The smile from his face fades. His expression is replaced with fury. He raises his hand, swings it back, and sets the blow to my face. I do not flinch and stay still. I feel the heat creeping to my cheek that has just been slapped. My heart hammers painfully against my chest, and I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles turned white.

"That should teach you." He sneers. I can feel his breath against my face. "You're living off me now, so behave."

I don't say anything. That's because I don't need to. I'll end this. I'll end all of this soon. And I'll end all of this quickly.

He walks to the other side of the bed and dips into it. I feel his heavy weight on the bed. Soon enough, I hear the snores escape his lips. How disgusting he looked. He looked awfully vulnerable too, and I imagined his dead corpse being eaten by wild animals. The thought of that twisted my lips into a smile. I can make that thought a reality.

Suddenly, my shoulders stiffened. Something cold is brushing against my skin. I look down, and I see his hand on my thigh. Ice seeps in my blood. Then, the ice melted and flames burned my inside. A heavy lump settles in my throat. I swatted his hand away forcefully as I could. He didn't feel anything. He just turned to the other side of the bed, and his snores continued to fill the thin silence in the room.

My heart is pounding, trying to escape my ribcage. It's too loud. I can hear it. I hope he can't hear it. I don't want him to know that I plan to reap his life away and that my heart is pounding with excitement. Twisted, I know, but do I care? The answer is no.

I get up slowly, and the bed creaks a little. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I slip out of the room without him noticing. There was a chainsaw in the basement if I remember. I can chop him up into little pieces and throw them away in a wood chipper machine if I liked. Richard Crafts style.

I giggle softly to myself in the hallway. Knowledge of every murder article comes to mind. Those articles really prove how cruel the human mind can be.

My footsteps were light as a feather. In a few more minutes, this will be over. I have ended the start of a hellish life. My heart swells with pride. However, I think about the consequences. I will be guaranteeing myself a trip to prison if I leave any traces. I tap my fingers to my side as I walk to the basement.

I'll wear gloves to conceal my fingerprints.

I'll wear boots that are not my size to mask my footprints.

I'll change my outfit to that composed of white cotton because all cotton is made up of the same chemical components and cannot be individualized.

I continue tapping my side as I think.

And I'll run away and never look back.