Work Text:
You.
Look at you.
Poor thing, pathetic.
Wide-eyed, deer in headlights.
Gullible, miserable, oh so pitiful.
Your cute little pout, lower lip jutting out. Shoulders slumped, made yourself small. Who are you trying to fool?
The blood on your hands. Memoirs of a massacre, a testament to your terrible temper.
You should’ve killed them.
Should’ve gouged their eyes out, dragged them through the back alley and let the jagged gravel skin them alive. Should’ve left them there to die. Do you regret it?
The blood on your hands. It tastes like confection. Gift-wrapped as the sweetest sin, presented with an aphrodisiac. You’re addicted.
Fantasies of cutting their tongues off and shoving it down their own damn throats. Hallucinations of bashing their heads into a wall and using the foul gunk from their spattered brains as viscous paint on a brick red canvas. How artistic.
Does it scare you?
How clearly you can imagine it.
To what depths your mind can wander.
Wicked and wretched, violent and vile.
Darling, you and I are the monsters hiding in plain sight, the kind your mother warned you to stay away from.
Does it frighten you?
How easily we can play pretend.
Look at me.
Pretty thing, perfect.
The way you tremble beneath my touch. Adam’s apple bobbing, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Your soft plea, a silent prayer. Hand over mouth, you’ve swallowed your screams. You’ve hidden your heart from me, but I can still hear it whimper. I can still feel your pulse. Ba-dump, ba-dump.
Be honest.
Does it race from fear or fascination?
Are you anxious, or are you aroused?
Let me be your truth.
Come here.
Press yourself close and peer through the wall that separates us. Watch me pull them apart piece by piece. My fingers down their throat, their tongue between my teeth. See how their legs fall open, how they spread themselves wide. Pay attention to their claws, how brutally they carve their signature into my bare skin, how these scrawls bleed into battle scars.
Don’t blink.
You’ll miss it.
My teeth sinking into their voice box, their shrieks vibrating against my tongue. Listen closely to their cries. Can you hear it? The inflections of pleasure succumbing to inflictions of pain as crimson red soaks through ivory white sheets. Spine snapped, head hanging by chewed tissue. They’ve gone cold, but I’ll keep their corpse warm just for you. Can you feel it? The fever gone south.
Does it disturb you?
How quickly you back away, retreat. How quietly you recede under the clever guise of covers. Murdered and mutilated, deceased then desecrated. Eyes squeezed shut, but you can still see it. You can still sense it, smell it, a stench most pungent. You’re petrified, scared smaller, this I know.
Does it disgust you?
The way your hand slips between your thighs, the way it curls around a growing heat. Lips quivering, legs shaking. You’re horrified, repulsed and upset but you can’t stop, you won’t, this you know.
Let me be your concession.
Your most intimate confession.
Surrender to this grotesque temptation, let it suffocate you with its gruesome embrace. Let it tear into you, peel your skin from bone, strip you of your flesh prison, and turn you inside out.
Dispel your discomfort.
It feels good, doesn’t it?
Letting loose, letting go.
Monsters in meat suits, we’ve made our home.
Look at you.
Look at me.
Look at us.
You’re not the only voyeur.
Come closer and peek through. It’s dark. Pitch black, you’re relieved. Perhaps it was just your sick imagination, you muse. Perhaps it was just that, a sinister illusion of your most morbid desire.
But you know what you saw.
Look again.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
They say if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
Do you see my soul?
Do you see yourself?
Hold your breath, and you’ll hear the walls breathe.
Quell your heart, and you’ll hear the ghosts weep.
You insist that you’re being drugged with deception. Convinced that you’re drunk on delusions. You hate me for what I’ve done to you.
Pity, poor you.
Curled up on your side, counting sheep, guilt twisted. Patience is a virtue, but your vice is greed. It festers in lust. Back arched against the sheets, fist in mouth, pleasuring yourself to the whores next door.
You should’ve said yes.
Should’ve lured me to your bed. Should’ve surrendered with that miserable pout, eyes lowered, tongue darting out. Do you regret it?
Look at me.
Pretty thing, provocative.
Tell me, how would you like me to fuck you?
Should I be gentle?
My lips grazing yours, a kiss so kind, it tastes of warm honey. Your fingers brushing through my hair, words of worships trailing along the crook of your neck. Soft praises, silent promises. A sweet embrace. I’ll make you mine.
Or should I be cruel?
Throw you on the bed, ram you into the headboard, neck strained, bent in half. My teeth bared sharp against your throat, your nails clawing stripes of beasts into my skin. Make you gag around my fingers, make you swallow my tongue. Brutalized trust, a violated truth. Does that turn you on?
Is that what you want?
Sick little slut. I’ll fuck you dead. Split you open, cut you up, make you bleed pretty around my cock.
Is that what you desire?
Carve into you, tear through your trachea. Pry your rib cage apart, plunge my hand into your gut, and pull them out for you to see. Should I tie you up with these slippery ropes? Should I shove it in your mouth just to keep you quiet? Gastric acid mingled with cum and drool.
Is that what gets you off?
Die.
The blood on your hands. You wish it weren’t yours.
Die.
The blood on your hands. You wish it were mine.
Die.
Tell me, how would you like to kill me?
Die.
Tell me, would you like to slit my throat? Watch me bleed out, decorate these walls with spurts of ruthless red.
Die.
Tell me, would you like to smash my head in? Crack my skull wide open, scour brain from bone, and study my sins.
Die.
Tell me, would you like to rip me apart to see if I’m anything like you? If my blood spills in a similar manner, if my heart beats the same.
DIE.
Tell me how you want to destroy me.
DIE.
Tell me how you want to devour me.
DIE.
TELL ME how you want to butcher me. TELL ME how you want to slaughter me. Murder me. MUTILATE ME. TELL ME HOW YOU WANT TO KILL ME. TELL ME HOW YOU WANT ME TO DIE, JUST DIE ALREADY FUCKING DIE YOU SICK FUCK, YOU ASSHOLE FUCKING BASTARD PIECE OF—
Shh.
You’re thinking too loud.
Quiet down.
There.
Don’t worry.
You’re safe here. I will protect us.
We will never part, even in death.
You.
Look at you.
Monstrous thing, a masterpiece.
You insist you’ve been deceived.
Convinced that it’s just delusion.
You hate me for what I’ve done to you, but darling, I am not your god. I did not create you. You created yourself. Your cruel imagination, your cold-blooded intentions, you wrote yourself in.
I was only your awakening.
Look around.
Eden is a house of mirrors.
The walls are made of glass.
Don’t you see?
It has always been about you.
You’re the stranger from hell.
Hell is just you.