Okay….this is dark…Very dark….um…slash…as in shlasher/killer…and ya know…slash as in man love…..for V. W. Norton…based of a stick figure drawing…and this will be continued….scary I know O.O
Archer watched her flirt, her sickly sweet smile, her laugh like chimes in the wind. It turned the champagne to ash in his mouth. All night she had been all over him, her dainty hands on his thigh, her eyes on his face. No one looked at Freddy like that, no one. Unless it was me.
She needed to go. No, fuck that, she needed to die. Disappearing wouldn't work. There would always be that hovering threat that she would come back. No, she needed to die. Freddy would be pissed ya, but that wouldn't matter. One good fuck and he'd forgive me. All that mattered was that that bitch would be dead.
He followed them back to her flat, waiting in his car. Waiting while Freddy got his fill of her.
He had waited until Freddy left. Had watched as Freddy snuck out the front, watched him drive off into the night, back to his own flat. Archer smiled. It was just him and Karen now.
He got out of the car, grabbing his bag as he went. He had everything planned out. He'd ring the door bell, have her invite him in. No, he'd kick the door in. Fuck that, it did not matter. All that mattered was what would happen once he was inside. That was the golden hour.
He crossed the street in long strides. He could feel his pulse beat throughout his body, ever beat screaming kill in his mind. A theme song to the night.
He walked up the steps two at a time.
He felt high, as if Christmas had come early.
He stared at the door. Time to play.
He rang the bell.
He heard footsteps.
The door opened.
She had no fucking idea. Stupid unfortunate cunt.
It was beauty in motion. It was poetry in its purest form.
She screamed.
He laughed.
She cried for Freddy.
He beat her harder.
It did not last long. She was week.
After a few artistic strokes of his knife she went quiet.
A stabbed her a few more times for good measure.
He laughed. It felt so good. Orgasmic.
He left her there, on the floor, bleeding. No longer recognizable as a woman, her hands gone.
She would never touch Freddy again. His Freddy.