Confession of the ***er

“I want to hear you say it.”

Lou’s frantic breathing echoed through the silent room; flashes of lightening from the storm outside illuminating his fear drenched features as he stared up at me. I could see the tears flowing down his cheeks, leaving water marks on the pillow case. The lines that had become etched in his forehead over the past few months were a beautiful sight. I had worn him down, but my patience had ended with Nelson’s final act.

The composition I appeared to have was barely holding on, smile drawn on my face partially in satisfaction, partially because I wouldn’t let him know how much he had gotten to me. He wasn’t going to see the internal chaos he’d thrown me into; void of emotions or not, I knew there was chaos.

“Isn’t it strange? I was your obsession before and it put me in my grave. Now you’re mine. Guess where you’re going, Louis?” I asked calmly. “Oh, well, actually, you’re lucky when you think about it. I was obsessed with making you miserable, making it impossible for you to function on a day to day basis because I was there, in the back of your head or the forefront of your mind. But now? Well, I think it’s time to move on, for both of us. So, I want to hear you say it.”

A pathetic sound escaped his lips as he fervently looked above his head, jerking carelessly at the bonds that tied him to its corners. Forehead crinkling he glanced back at me, letting out a pitiful cry. He wasn’t going anywhere. I had made my final play; keeping myself out of sight for the day, and once he had lulled himself into a deep sleep I had tied him there, waiting for his awakening as the day turned to night and the rain turned into a full-out storm.

I sat atop him then, straddling him at the waist as my nails dug painfully into the skin of his torso. Leaning down I whispered into his ear, “Say it Lou; tell me you killed me.”

“I…I… Oh god,” he wailed, struggling profusely, fruitlessly. “I’m so sorry, god I’m sorry, Greer. Please…”

“You’ve taken two lives, Louis,” I said, holding up two fingers. “With my death, you at least had the fire of scornful revenge fuelling me to torment you, but keeping you alive all the while. Then came Nelson. And I lost interest. One life is already too much to be stolen away by one person, but two? I don’t think I can let this go on any longer. It’s nice to know you work alone, and there’s no second person I have to hunt down for helping you dispose of my body. So come on, say it.”

“I didn’t touch Nelson!” He screamed below me. His eyes were a crazed mixture of fear and despair. “I might have killed you but I never—“

"Oh, there we go, you said it, didn’t you?” I reached down, grasping his chin as I leaned closer to him with a malicious smile on my face. It was beautiful in a strange way to hear his confession; to hear admittance that he had in fact taken my life. In some way, it was freeing. Another flash of lightening showed the utter terror dancing across his face as my nails scratched down the sides of his face, settling on his neck. He was going to feel me just as I’d felt him in my final moments. “Nelson’s death was the result of what you did to me. And your death? That’s also going to be a prime result of what you did to me.”

Louis began to plead, desperately, without any shame as I smiled down at him, fingers and nails running roughly across his neck. Slowly, deliberately I began to place pressure on his flesh. His struggling increased, and I found a strange serenity I stared down at him and the compression of my fingers increased.

“Sit back and breathe, Louis, after a few minutes you won’t feel a thing.”
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It's Nice to Know You Work Alone- Silversun Pickups

It's over. And I don't know how to feel about that.