Give Me Your Heart

“I know nothing more than you do,” I calmly reassured her. Somehow, I wanted her to know I was lying.

“Bullshit,” she spat.

I stared at her in surprise. She did not strike me as the type to curse, but that just brewed a feeling within my stomach.

I smiled at her. “What do you know?"

She huffed, a childish action. “I know that someone’s killing people close to me.”

“Oh?”

She dropped her voice to a shaky whisper, and she stepped closer to me. I held my breath as she spoke, “I think someone is after me. They want to kill me.”

I let out my breath softly. “I’m sure that’s not true. Who could possibly … Want to?”

me me i want to

An increased amount of pressure struck my head like a bullet. I groaned and held my head. "Ow."

Her expression relaxed. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I snapped.

My blood was boiling. It was unbearably hot within my skin, and a deep itching sensation coated the underside of my skin. I could feel a voice pressing at the very barriers of my mind.

Sylvia's soulful eyes scanned me. "No, you do n –”

I couldn't bear to look at her. Her innocent face was too much for me to grasp. The visible branches of veins on her arms. The pure colour of her skin. The blood just on the other side of the thin, penetrable concealment.

I rushed passed her without so much as a glance. I ran passed the other students that were ditching their class, and ran into the bathroom.

I hadn't noticed I was breathing heavily.

I stumbled to the sink area, and with a great attempt, lifted my head to gaze at the mirror.

what do you see

I gasped a breath out as I was met with a pair of cold eyes on a face identical to mine.

darren darren scream something

“Fuck … Fuck … What the hell,” I breathed, touching my perspiring cheeks with shaky fingertips.

My reflection moved when I didn't and formed a malicious grin. I smiled back.

darren the whore of babylon is out to kill you

I shook my head. My reflection didn't follow. “No … No,” I whispered, touching the mirror. “She's not a whore.”

oh darren you know nothing about her she is not who you think

“No!” I growled. “She is … nice. Her eyes are … dark.”

My reflection's eyes widened in unhinged rage. Blood exploded through the mirror as a knife slashed at my body. I felt my life's blood pouring out in rivers and seeping into the cracks of the concrete floor. I didn't think I was screaming, and I probably wasn't. I could not distinguish the line between reality and fantasy at that moment.

fool she will eat you alive

“You don't know!” I screamed. And I screamed over and over. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

you need to kill her darren

I instantly stopped screaming. I rose to my feet sluggishly and gazed into the mirror. I grinned. “I do. Yes, I need to kill her.”

I pictured her lovely face freckled with her own pure blood. Her blood caught within the crevices of my palm. Her luscious blood sticking to my taste buds. My fingers wrapped around her veins.

I grinned wickedly at the mere thoughts. They drove me wild.

I caught the curious, distant eyes in the mirror with my own.

“Who are you … ?” I whispered the question.

My reflection raised its finger tips and grazed the side of my head with them. It produced a devious smile just for me.

i'm your sanity

A sharp pang of anguish hit me like a bullet, and I collapsed on the ground with a scream. With that, I disappeared.

**

I came back down to Earth to someone calling my name and shaking me. It was one of my professors.

“Hey, Darren, you all right?” he asked me, his eyes drenched in worry.

I sat up as slow as humanly possible and rubbed my right eye. “Yes. I'm fine. Um, what happened?”

He laughed. “I'm not sure. I think you might have been dehydrated. I noticed you had been missing from my lesson, and someone said you were here, though.”

“Who was it?”

He scratched his chin for a few moments. “It was a blonde girl.”

“Sylvia?” I anxiously asked.

He nodded. “Ah, yes. That's her name.”

“She didn't say anything else? Um, mention anything else?” I was curious as to how much Sylvia talked about me. She didn't look like much of a talker.

“No, she didn't. She just told me that she saw you around the school, and saw you go into the bathroom,” he admitted.

I nodded in reply as I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling.

“Would you like to go home early, Darren? That might be best,” my professor suggested.

I thought for a moment before nodded. “Yes. I do feel a little sick.”

“All right, then. I'll see you in a couple days, then.” He smiled as he bade me farewell. “Get well soon.”

I smiled. “I will. I am a fast healer.”

We both departed from the bathroom, and went our separate ways.

**

My head was pounding when I was halfway home. There was a buzzing sensation within my mind, along with a sort of whispering. I could make out these words:

kill the whore kill the whore

I felt the bloodlust bubble out of my veins, as my fury rose. I couldn't recall why I had been in the bathroom, or what had occurred there. There was blood, and it was mine.

I knew the bloodlust was triggered by the girl walking towards me. She had a sloppy grin on her ruby lips like she was drunk, but she was all too sober.

“Hey, there,” she acknowledged, smiling brightly at me.

“Hello,” I stiffly replied.

“It's a lovely day, isn't it?” She decided to safely approach me with small talk. Although it was nearly four o'clock, the sun had begun to set behind some trees.

“I suppose so.” I played along. I knew her fate would end in bloodshed, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Her hair was the lightest shade of caramel that reached down inches passed her waist, and her eyes were a hazy blue. Her skin matched her hair. Her skin was flawless, but not like Sylvia's. No one was like Sylvia.

“You're very cute … What's your name?” she flirted. Harmless.

I smiled. “You're not so bad yourself, beautiful.” She blushed. “I'm Darren … and you are?”

“I'm Melanie.” She grinned at me.

“Well, Melanie, it's a pleasure to meet you.” I grinned back at her, thought not as full.

She was not that bad. She was not a filthy whore like a greater part of my female victims were.

Melanie giggled. “So, what are you doing walking around these lonely streets?”

“Heading home from college,” I answered with a small smile. “What about yourself. A girl as pretty as you shouldn't be walking around alone, either.”

She shrugged and laughed. “You know … Just taking a walk.” She smiled with a guilty expression like that of a child. So she wasn't as far from a whore as I had thought.

I smirked. “Hmm. Well, I guess I could end your walk right here.”

Her eyes lit up deviously. “Oh, good. I am feeling a little tired … but not too tired, of course.”

I smiled. “Of course.” I held my arm out to her, and she placed her hand on it. “Shall we go to my apartment?”

She nodded. “Definitely.”

We walked on to our destination.

**

“Your skin's so soft,” I murmured as I ran my gloved hand over the bare skin of her stomach.

“Mmm. That feels good.” Melanie was pressed up against the wall of my apartment, opposite the couch. Melanie did not notice I was still wearing gloves.

I chuckled. “And your hair … It's so pretty. Mmm.”

She laughed. “I get a lot of comments on my hair.”

“I bet you do, darling,” I cooed, stroking her hair.

She sighed in contentment, and leaned into my touch. She was a woman of the street, no doubt. Though, she showed it a lot less, and was more subtle. It was there, alright. She had the prettiest face of sin.

“Can I have your hair … ?” I asked of the girl, still caressing the soft locks.

She looked up at me, puzzled. I smiled to let her know everything would be fine, and she smiled back, completely reassured. She answered with confidence, “I don't mind … at all.”

“Good,” I whispered. I placed my hand inside my pants pocket. “But first, I want to mar that flawless skin of yours …”

She giggled happily when I resumed grazing my fingertips over her abdomen.

I took out my blade and slide it smoothly over the skin of her abdomen. Blood bubbled up to the surface like it was a race to see which drop would fall first. Eight drops fell before she could blink.

“What … are you doing?!”

I pressed a finger to her lips. “Don't you like me?”

She reluctantly nodded. “Y – Yeah, I do. I like you.”

“Well, don't,” I snapped.

She tried to scramble away, but clipped her shoulder, and a thin sheet of skin fell to the carpet, leaving a rectangular imprint of blood.

A small cut-off scream was released from her mouth a second before I clamped her mouth closed with my free hand.

I chuckled. “You're a handful, aren't you?”

She grunted in response.

“We'll have to fix that …” I murmured passively to her.

She kept grunting as my hand kept her mouth clamped. She clawed at my hand, but I easily slashed at her palms and fingers. Three of her fingers dropped to the ground, and blood followed. Melanie screamed, though it was muffled.

“You won't need those, anyway,” I mused.

I took my knife and slid it deep within the flesh of her stomach, and moved it sideways. I slashed her stomach to ribbons until there was no visible flesh remaining.

She was still conscious – stubborn girl – and nearly dead. I released my hand cautiously from her hand. She made no indication she would scream. And she didn't.

I smiled.

“Have I fixed you?”

Melanie looked at me, and with one bout of strength, managed to bite my gloved finger.

I recoiled and shook my hand. “Bitch!”

I took her neck in my hands and shook it twice. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets for minutes.

I grinned maliciously as I carried her toward the middle of the living room, where the fan hung from the ceiling. I grabbed some duct tape from the end table and ripped off a piece with my mouth.

Melanie followed me with her eyes, the happiness vacant from them. I stood her up, and held onto her while I grabbed all of her hair and placed it the ends on the fan. I fastened them with the tape.

Her eyes widened, and she thrashed as much as she could, which was barely anything. I smiled.

When she knew her struggles were in vain, she ceased, and I turned on the fan at the highest power.

Within minutes, her scalp was being torn. Her scalp was peeling from her head and blood rushed down to great her face eagerly.

“Make it stop … Damn, make it stop!” she wailed hoarsely.

I just grinned from behind her.

Five more minutes of my time, and her scalp was dislodged from her head, and she had fallen to the floor from loss of her life's blood.

I took my knife and carved one word into her back: FIXED.

I grinned at my work and stood up straight, brushing myself off in vain. I wasn't trying to remove any blood; I would do that in a few minutes.

After wreaking complete havoc upon my apartment: drawers flung across the floor, furniture overturned, items scattered, I removed all of my bloody clothes carefully and replaced them with clean ones. I went to my closet and dropped them and my gloves into a small dug-out storage in the floor of my closet, and I shut the door. I plopped the small mat over the door.

I washed my face and any other skin that was smothered with the red liquid.

I removed my cell phone from my pocket, and dialed a number that I had memorized forwards and backwards.

“Sylvia?” I asked, my voice shaky and flowing with anxiety.

“Darren? What's wrong?” she answered, worry lacing her voice. She didn't point out why I would be calling her, or how I have her number.

“There's a dead body in my living room,” I said in a childlike voice.