A Thousand Words

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I can feel my essence slowly leaking out of me. It swirls, a black mass above my head, and floats away with the wind. I can see my blood dripping slowly on the carpet as my head starts to spin. I should have never trusted him. He said he would never hurt me. He promised me he would never let anything happen to me. Clearly, he lied.

I can remember the look in his eyes, wild and sadistic as he ravaged my body without mercy. His smile had always been so kind, but at that moment it was hazed over with lust and malicious glee. I didn't even have the heart to fight him off. When I looked at him, he was still the sweet boy I made friends with.

The knife was the worst part of it, and the part he enjoyed most. It slashed and sliced into my skin meticulously, sending waterfalls of red spewing from my veins.

My essence is fading even faster now as my eyes flutter, struggling to stay open. Memories of a small, vulnerable, foolish girl and a cunning, smiling boy flash through the darkness every once in a while. They get faster and faster, slowly creeping closer to the moment my world fell apart.

I can hear his footsteps approaching the door again, his dark chuckle sending my ears and mind into agony. "Well, Larissa, it seems you're losing that spark I've always admired. Where's the fight in you?" I don't respond as my arms give out from underneath me, making my stomach collide painfully with the floor. His chuckle crescendos to a full out laugh at the sight.

I used to think of him as beautiful, with wide blue eyes and a gentle smile, and short, curly brown hair. Now I can only think of when those gorgeous eyes narrowed with vicious intent and when he pulled out all of his "toys." Whips, handcuffs, knives, guns, he even had a mace. But his eyes especially sparkled when his fingers trailed over the knives. Pure bliss clouded them over when he picked up the biggest one, twirling it around expertly, and he practically moaned with pleasure as he plunged it into my flesh.

He laughs again and says coldly, "Let's have some more fun." He walks over and picks up a shiny, small dagger. "Didn't you tell me you always wanted a tattoo? Well, let's give you one." Tears fall unashamedly down my cheeks, dripping down and muddling the pool of red underneath me. "What do you think I should draw? A smiley face? No, too simple. Maybe a dragon. I remember you always loved when I drew dragons." It is true. He draws such beautiful dragons.

He quickly and effortlessly picks me up and tosses me on my stomach on the table. I don't bother struggling as he starts carving my "tattoo" into the flesh on my back. After what feels like hours of blood and tears, he pulls back and whips out two mirrors, angling them so I can see the carvings in my back. It is beautiful, just like his dragons always are, just like he is. "Do you like it?" he purrs.

"I love it, Peyton. You know I do. It's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as your pained face, my dear." I don't have the strength to respond. My lungs are starting to collapse on me as my mind spins in an endless daze. I am honestly amazed I am still alive. Judging by the amount of blood splattered everywhere, I won't be for much longer. "Nothing I ever draw, or carve, as is the case here," he says with another dark chuckle, "could ever be as beautiful as the tears running down your face."

I remember when I first met him. He saved me from a couple bullies, and I had never seen someone be so glorious. I shiver as I remember his licking the blood off his knuckles with a mischievous grin. I should have taken that as a warning, instead of just a quirk. There were many warnings that I ignored, now that I think about it. I am such a fool. "Why are you doing this?" I choke out pathetically. He clicks his tongue in mock sympathy and shrugs with a nonchalance that makes me quake with fear and rage.

"I get bored. I've been waiting for the right moment to do this since I first met you. You should be honored, really. I usually don't pick out my victims beforehand. But something about you just... drew me in. I knew I had to be the one to make those pretty little eyes close forever."

"You're sick and twisted."

"Oh stop flattering me! You might make me blush." I open my mouth to respond, but before I can he whips me over so I am looking straight in his eyes. Those perfect blue orbs suck me in and my breath faulters. Despite all of this, his eyes still manage to penetrate into the core of my soul. "I may be sick, and I may be twisted, but I enjoy every second of it." He licks all the way up my cheek, my blood dripping from his lips as he closes his eyes in ecstacy. "Tastes good," he says with a laugh that sends chills down my spine.

"I hope you die a slow and painful death."

"Like yours? That's what they always say," he says with a casual wave of the hand.

"I trusted you."

"And I betrayed you. I'm a heartless bastard. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all a thousand times, sweetheart," he drones without any remorse. "You're running out of time, my dear. If you've got any last words, I'd say them now." But I don't. No brilliant words of wisdom fall hollowly from my lips. They stay closed as I gasp for breath. The knife pierces my heart and my essance puffs out of me with a final breath as my eyes close forever. Just like he wanted.