My Killer

Don't Scream

"Try not to be so damn loud, princess. I have a fucking headache in the bloody making and would hate to have to make you shut up. Don't force me to seal those pretty lips of yours shut much like I made you seal Grace's lips... with a pointy needle and some fucking thread."

Michaels words were almost as effective as the mute button on a remote control. One second the loud whimpers leaving my lips were tethering the ever so fine line between being classified as a mere whimper or the beginnings of a scream, and the very next second my lips had sealed themselves shut.

I watched the monster approach with widened eyes, whilst only allowing the barest of breaths to escape my flared nostrils. Michael had a real knack for instilling fear in someone, his threats were never empty, there was always a wast sea of horrors lurking within their murky depths.

Please...

I'll never... never again... I p..promise...

P..please...

I begged the monster with my eyes, petrified of what he might do to me if I made a single unwanted sound.

Please...

My silent begging accomplished absolutely nothing though, Michael never stopped his haunting approach. His hooded eyes were fixed upon my trembling form, eating up the fear he himself had instilled within me. His lips were stretched into a thin line of determination as he crouched down in front of me, not stopping until the dark cobalt of his orbs were at the same level as my own blurred eyes.

"Do you know the best way to teach a child the difference between right and wrong? Eh, princess?"

I tried to shake my head no in answer to the unexpected question, only to be reminded that it was impossible in my current predicament, the smooth leather restraints held my head firmly in place. Michael didn't wait for a verbal reply though, he just continued on with his monologue, seemingly satisfied with my silent reply. And why wouldn't he be, he had after all made sure that I remained mute in his presence with a few calculated words of caution beforehand.

"Through pain. Telling a small child that a flame is hot and that it will burn their skin will only be partly successful at best. What is hot to a child but just another hollow word? To truly understand the concept of what hot is, you have to experience it firsthand. You can prattle on about the consequences of touching the flame until you turn blue in the face, but the child won't truly understand until feeling the lick of a flame for the first time. Only then, with personal experience, will the word hot gain true meaning."

Michael shook his head, the right corner of his lips pulled up to create a lopsided smile.

"I guess part of what is going to happen next is my fault. I prattled on and on about the possible consequences of defying me, of what running away would incur, yet I never truly let you get a taste of just what that would entail, did I? You're going to get more than a little taste now. You're going to learn the best way possible now, through experience, through pain. I will be your teacher, princess."

No... please...

I couldn't help but flinch as Michael reached for me, his large hand a warm embrace against my tear-soaked cheek. My bottom lip trembled as he made nonsensical patterns along my chilled skin with the soft pad of his thumb. He was so gentle, his hand a touch of comfort, even his usually gruff voice had a soothing quality to it. It was a stark contrast to his openly displayed intentions. He was going to hurt me, hurt me really bad.

P..please...

"If I were a kinder man I would say that doing this to you would pain me more than it would pain you, but that would be an outright lie. The very thought of doing this to you, it truly excites me. I want to hurt you, I long to break you apart... bit by bit... Thank you for giving me a reason to fuck you up, my love. It's going to be my pleasure to teach you right from wrong."