Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
The sound of bone cracking and the vibrations I felt through the weapon in my hand sent a rush of satisfaction and pleasure through me. Blood spattered, warm and thick, all over the goddamn place, and I fucking loved it.
I cut again, this time severing his other wrist with the same brutal and savage precision and force as I did before. Soon both of his hands were detached from his arms, grotesque trophies waiting to be repurposed. The body parts were roughly severed, a perfect and personal gift for Isla.
I came prepared. Pulling out a white satin ribbon, now stained from my bloodied fingers, I laid it aside for a moment as I reached into my back pocket. The brown paper bag I’d brought was flattened and sliced open, ready to hold the pieces of my art. I worked carefully, methodically cutting off each of his eight fingers and two thumbs, and arranging them on the paper with precision. I folded the paper over the grotesque bouquet of digits like I was a florist, tying it neatly with the ribbon.
Once the gift was secured, I stood back to admire my work. My heart beat steadily, almost too calm for the chaos I’d just caused. I’d never given anyone a trophy before, but this? This felt like the right time.
The perfect offering for her.
I crouched beside Zack’s limp, mutilated body, digging my finger into the gaping neck wound to gather fresh blood. And then I made even more art.
The crimson smeared thickly as it was already starting to clot. I painted a heart on the front of the package. I held up the grotesque gift, turning it in the light, and smiling like a fucking psycho at how perfect it was.
She didn’t yet understand the kind of craving my type of monster desired—the kind no one else could satisfy…until her.
But she would soon.
Satisfied with everything, I cleaned my blade off on Zack’s sheets, the metallic scent of blood that clung to the air having dark excitement move through me. There was nothing like it, nothing like the savage brutality and death that I wrought.
And this? This was my masterpiece.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Everything became quiet right after I just took a life, when the beast was sated for a moment in time.
I left the house and kept to the shadows. But as I put distance between me and my latest kill, something prickled along the back of my neck. A sensation I knew all too well.
I wasn’t alone. I was being watched.
I kept my pace normal, but once I rounded the corner and entered an alleyway, I stilled and pressed my back to the building. I scanned the alley then looked across the street. And although I saw nothing, the feeling of someone watching me didn’t go away.
Hair was standing along the back of my neck. That feeling of being hunted. If I were anyone else, I might have felt fear. Instead, I felt irritated.
The sensation was that of a predator recognizing another predator. And just as quickly as I sensed the presence of that other darkness-dwelling monster, it faded until it was gone. Whoever had been watching me left, and a sliver of disappointment filled me. I would have loved to kill again tonight.
I waited several moments, but there was no movement, no sound. There was nothing but the heavy beat of my heart as I stood in the alley, drenched in blood, clutching the grotesque bouquet.
The feeling of excitement slammed into me. Whoever followed me, they were good if I hadn’t been able to spot them. I left the alley and kept walking even though my instincts roared at me to hunt the one who'd been hunting me. I would have found them eventually.
With a low growl, I pushed down the unyielding sensation to stalk, burying it in the cold, soulless pit that was my heart. I had bigger things to focus on.
I had a gift to deliver.
6
ISLA
Iwoke to the soft, morning light filtering through the thin curtains over my bedroom window. I could hear the hum of the much bigger city in the distance, knowing it had never slept.
For a moment, if I just lay here not thinking about my life or what I was doing with it, everything was normal—comforting. If I could actually pretend.
I closed my eyes and rolled onto my back. The ache in my muscles from yesterday’s long shift was a familiar feeling. I started a new serving job last night. It was in an even shittier diner than the previous one. But it stayed busy, and although the tips weren’t great, I was scheduled full time, so I couldn’t complain.
When I finally forced myself to get out of bed, I felt the chill in the air of the weather changing. I sat there my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and just listened to the creaking of my shitty, old apartment. I stared out the window, rubbed my eyes to wake up, then glanced at my dresser.