Smaller, yes I know. I've been having trouble writing lately. Bleh.
A thank you to my dearest sister for her crazy ass sick mind. =D
Glass shattering, rained down, danced across the carpet.
"She'll fix this." I breathed, eyes focused on my fathers picture - probably the only thing left untouched by the rage the harlot installed in my veins. "She'll repair this broken home."
My teeth grinded, she'll pay, you'll see, Father. She'll pay. Everything felt like a cage, compressing down into my lungs - I couldn't breathe. The basement - my safe haven, my one true love.
The door opened with a padlock and combination lock. Two locks. Alison was a tricky one, she was cleaver. No way to escape, I had made sure of that.
Daddy, you taught your son well. She tried running, but you taught me, Daddy. Aren't you proud?
The tip of my boot played at the stairwell, it was a descend down a stairwell into complete beauty - a place where I could think more clearly. My hand hinged on the doorknob. 'Not so fast, Dimitri.' It was hard to contain oneself from running down the stairs.
She was beautiful.
My foot hovered over one of the steps, remembering it's banshee like screech. They never knew you were there, always stepping on you as they tried to leave. You are it's own type of alarm, thank you old friend.
A smile danced across my lips - it was like music to my ears as the low howl launched into the air. The third to the top step, step into the center without thinking. It screamed.
Continuing down, the musky smell filled my nose. I have to clean you, I remind myself, as I'd scan the room. Picking up the dirt brown spots, marks across the baseboard, across a few areas of the wall. You were once crimson now, you've dried.
I think you can smell the decaying rot of my past lovers - you begged to be let free, I did that for you.
They were free, they didn't want to hear our futures as I purred them into their ears. They would spit into my face, screaming it would never happen. It would happen - they never would want it. I released them. They were in my beautiful flower garden now, I thought lightly of the subject as I crawled onto the blood and dirt caked bed in the middle of the room. Curling up to the right handed side, never to the left.
Do you like sleeping on the left, Rose? My mind pondered the question, as I turned my attention away from my garden of beautiful flowers. ( I could never actually grow anything there.. But it was beautiful. )
Drifts the tattered blanket that was caked with God knows what over to the left side, pretending she was already there.
"No, darling." I breathed, practicing the line over again and again, "I don't want you to leave. You'll be my beautiful Rose, forever." My fingertips touched the inch-thick pillow that she would rest her head under.
...My Rose. MASON. I twisted off to the side, peering at the beauty of a restraint table. The chains that hung in many areas of the ceiling beams, the metal would be bound tightly to him. His wrists and ankles, no way of escape. His body growing frail and weak every passing day. No, I wouldn't make his death quick, it'd be slow, painful.
First I'd have to figure out how to get him over to my house. Women were easy, all it took were a few suggestive smiles and they were on their knees begging to spend the night. Men though...I've never had the thought of ever inviting a male into my home. How would I start? I'd have to find the boy first, start up a conversation, maybe invite him over for a drink...Yes. That would have to do. To get him drunk I would not have to worry about him fighting back. Though I doubt he could compare to my 6' 7" stature, or my strength, but it'd make everything so much easier.
Chaining him to the wall I wouldn't blind fold him. No. He shall watch as I draw his death near, until the very last minute until his eyes close and he is no longer part of this world. I would not bury him in my garden. Oh no. He does not deserve a proper burial. His screams, his pitiful cries for help-oh I can hear it already.
Smiling happily, I arranged everything perfectly next to my restraint table, on a small metal side table. Various knives, pliers, a hammer...Oh Mason. I can't wait to finally meet you.
