Let's Shoot Some Heroin and *** With the Stars

I made my way down the dusty stairs to the basement, knife in hand. When I got the the bottom, I lightly kicked my father’s stomach to see if he was awake. He subtly groaned and rolled over. I let out a low chuckle and yanked him up by his graying hair, similar to what he did to me. I led him to the center of the dark basement where there was a low pipe hanging down. He followed with little struggle. I grasped the thick rope, which was conveniently placed near the low hanging pipe, and tied each of his hands to the pipe with perfect knots. He was hanging about three inches off the ground. His arms made a “pop” sound and he groaned again, making me laugh.

“Honey, is this really necessary?” He pleaded, though I showed no mercy to his pathetic cries. This cruel bastard is about to get what he fucking deserves.

I sliced open his shirt with a quick motion of my arm, and ripped it off to reveal his sickening 42-year-old beer gut. I was going to make him fucking suffer as much as I did, but all packed into one day. I thought out exactly what to do, how to carve him up to make him suffer the longest without killing him- yet.

I quickly sliced a heart shape right above where his real heart would normally be. It wasn’t deep enough to kill him, but deep enough for him to scream in pain.

“So, you think you can just do all that shit with no consequence, father? You would be wrong. Do you realize what you put me through this past year? You practically took a fucking knife, and cut it in two!” I screamed at him, and then slashed and X across to heart. I watched as he flailed about, unable to get free of the horrid pain. Blood slowly oozed down his chest in the shape of a broken heart. As sick as it may sound, it was almost beautiful. I always enjoyed the sight of blood. Not enough to harm myself, but I loved the way it moved. The way the thick red substance just slid down your skin, how it just kept going and going until you didn’t have any blood left to spill. The beautiful red color it was as it left your body, and also the blue color that you could see in your veins through pale skin.

I was brought out of my trance when a knocking was heard at the front door. I skipped up the stairs and to the door, and quickly opened it. I found myself looking into the eyes of a teenage boy, probably about my age. Something about him was just purely mesmerizing, I wasn’t sure what.

“Excuse me, I’m Oliver. I just heard some screaming coming from here, and was wondering if everything was alright?” He calmly asked me. I froze in my spot. Could he really hear that from outside?

“Oh no, everything here is fine. You must’ve come to the wrong house.” I spoke quickly, and then attempted to close the door. Oliver stopped it with his foot, and pointed to the bloody knife in my hand. Fuck.

“Oh... W-well you see... I...” Oliver put his index finger to my lips to shush my stuttering.

“If you’re doing something homicidal in this household, then I am extremely offended that I wasn’t invited to watch.” He slowly whispered, grinning at me. I gasped, very confused. He pulled out a knife from his back pocket and threw it in the air, then perfectly catching it by the handle and winking at me. I got the message, and smiled deviously before leading him to the basement with me. Oliver laughed at the sight of my blood covered father. Morbidity is fun.