That flirtatious smile. Why does she touch him? He's mine—he knows that she knows that yet her hands are all over him. Every day. I want to tell her.
"Fuck off bitch."
But he'd just get mad.
I want to push her off and tell her.
"Go screw yourself."
But he's piss at me.
I want to throw her to the ground. And strange her slowly. I want to take the knife in the kitchen and slash her skinny little neck. Trim the skin right off her bones, peel it away like I was peeling the skin off potatoes.
I want to watch her scream in pain and agony as blood would drip from her wounds. I want to slash her all over and watch her squirm.
I want to attack her when no one's looking. When no one's around. I want to attack her at this very moment, her hands not leaving his arm, but he's here.
I'll follow her home. I'll watch her and wait until she's asleep. I'll bring a gun, but not use it on her. I don't want her to die fast; I want her die a painful slow death.
One that she wishes was a dream. One that she can live but live painfully.
I want to slice slowly at her stomach, moving up to her neck. Slice from the middle upwards. I want to grab on each side, and tear open her flesh with my own bare hands. I want to look inside her stomach, watch her organ pump away as she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.
I want to inhale the aroma of taking her life, killing her. The smell of blood that would never leave me/ the sweet smell that would linger on inside my head forever.
My darkest deeds.
I want to grab at her organs, squish the slimy thing in my hand just enough. I don't want it to explode. I don't want to feel the chunky squished organ all over my hand…not yet.
I want her to die.
Kill
Kill
Kill
Death
Death
Death
…
"Fuck you."
I would say.
"Fuck you for putting your hands all over my lover."
I would then take the sharp blade and bring it to her gasping face. Smiling evilly to myself and taking in the fear that she shows.
"Fuck you, dirty slut."
I would then take that knife and slice it across her face. From cheek to cheek passing through the creases in her lips. Then taking my two hands I'd grasp each flap and pull them apart.
Her voice would crack as it nearly goes out. The blood would not stop pouring and spurting from those cuts. I'd—with force, rip apart her mouth and break her jaw.
I'd look into her eyes and smile my wicked delicious smile.
"Fuck you bitch."
Then I'd kill her without the knife.
No
I wanted to feel her dying.
I'd grab at her exposed heart. Squeeze it with all my mite until it burst and blood spurt all over me.
I'd laugh as I look at the bloody mess before me.
But alas I can't do that.
Because.
She's only your sister.