Cold Blood
  • Reads 635
  • Votes 55
  • Parts 13
  • Time 49m
  • Reads 635
  • Votes 55
  • Parts 13
  • Time 49m
Ongoing, First published Jul 08, 2017
"Was that supposed to hurt?" My eyes left the wound as I pulled the knife from my gut, blood spraying from the wound and coating her face. "I-I don't understand," She mumbled, completely still, just staring at the spot the knife had one been plunged into. "Why-how are you still alive?"
Her grey eyes were dull, they already looked dead, her skin was pale and her hair hung limply over her shoulders, she reminded me of the corpses I had left to rot in their homes. "I'm not completely human anymore, you people should remember that before you go stabbing me in the stomach,"

And just like that, I had dug the sharp blade into her forehead, hearing a pleasant crack as it pierced her skull. Smiling down at my work, I lifted my phone to my ear ready to report my success. "A is dead," I spoke, hearing the familiar crackling noise as my Alias rose among the ranks. "Congratulations Black Reaper, you are now in the top five," The computerised voice droned, confirming my estimation. "No. Thank you," A smirk had plastered itself on my face as I once again admired my clean kill, "It was a pleasure," Hanging up the phone, I reached for my coat, glad that the expensive leather hadn't been ruined by mine or the girl's blood. 

"Bitch had it coming,"  

It's just us now you bastards, come and get me.

Rin was a recluse who spent her time locked in her house, this soon changes as she begins to receive anonymous letters in the mail, their contents explaining a game that can gift Rin with everything she ever wanted...There's just one catch, she must kill the other contestants to win. The last one standing is granted endless amounts of power. Scared and threatened, Rin must team up with her slightly insane classmate, karma Saden in order to survive. Sanities and lives will be lost, who will win...The Murder game?
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"Oh, my God." I look up from my hands, the blade wet with red liquid. "Hi", I say cheerily, giving him a wave, laughing as more drips onto my lap. I gently set the knife down on the counter top beside where I'm sitting, my legs covered in knife marks, giving it a loving pat before picking up the next one. It's too clean. It needs to be pretty. "Theresa, put the knife down", Jake orders, walking quickly over. "Put it down." "It's not pretty!", I shout, surprising him. "It doesn't understand!" He looks at me, looking deep into my eyes for a moment before ripping the blade out of my grasp, dropping it onto the floor. "Come on. Let's go get you fixed up." "I don't need fixing!", I scream, kicking my fiancé as he tries to pick me up. "I'm perfect!" "Shh", he says. "Of course you are." "You're a liar!", I shriek. "You're trying to make me ugly again! I made art and you don't like it!" I burst into tears, burying my face in my hands, sticky blood getting all over my face. Jake ignores me, scooping me up and carrying me into the bedroom, then into the bathroom, locking the door before putting me down on the counter. "I don't wanna be fixed!", I cry as he wets a washcloth, wiping the red water off of my skin, thrashing as more and more of my masterpiece gets washed away. "Stop! Stop it!" "Shhh", Jake soothes, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's not hurting you." "You're destroying everything!", I yell. "It was a masterpiece!" -------- Theresa Moore. Age:21. The strange thing about her is, she doesn't remember much. A voice speaks to her in her mind, telling her to kill. Sometimes, the voice, becomes so much more than bossy. It takes control. *this is merely a first draft right now. Edits will happen when the story is finished, burn it you find mistakes, please let me know by messaging me
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Insanity

41 parts Complete Mature

"Oh, my God." I look up from my hands, the blade wet with red liquid. "Hi", I say cheerily, giving him a wave, laughing as more drips onto my lap. I gently set the knife down on the counter top beside where I'm sitting, my legs covered in knife marks, giving it a loving pat before picking up the next one. It's too clean. It needs to be pretty. "Theresa, put the knife down", Jake orders, walking quickly over. "Put it down." "It's not pretty!", I shout, surprising him. "It doesn't understand!" He looks at me, looking deep into my eyes for a moment before ripping the blade out of my grasp, dropping it onto the floor. "Come on. Let's go get you fixed up." "I don't need fixing!", I scream, kicking my fiancé as he tries to pick me up. "I'm perfect!" "Shh", he says. "Of course you are." "You're a liar!", I shriek. "You're trying to make me ugly again! I made art and you don't like it!" I burst into tears, burying my face in my hands, sticky blood getting all over my face. Jake ignores me, scooping me up and carrying me into the bedroom, then into the bathroom, locking the door before putting me down on the counter. "I don't wanna be fixed!", I cry as he wets a washcloth, wiping the red water off of my skin, thrashing as more and more of my masterpiece gets washed away. "Stop! Stop it!" "Shhh", Jake soothes, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's not hurting you." "You're destroying everything!", I yell. "It was a masterpiece!" -------- Theresa Moore. Age:21. The strange thing about her is, she doesn't remember much. A voice speaks to her in her mind, telling her to kill. Sometimes, the voice, becomes so much more than bossy. It takes control. *this is merely a first draft right now. Edits will happen when the story is finished, burn it you find mistakes, please let me know by messaging me