Horror

I opened my eyes, feeling drowsy and sleepy. I found myself staring at a pure white ceiling. It was perfectly blemish less, just a clean white blank space.

A face suddenly appeared in my sight of view. He had dark hair sticking up, dark eyes full of mystery and evil, and a permanently seeming smirk.

I recognized him. It was Jack. Jack, my old ex. We broke up so long ago. I broke up with him. He was insane. He couldn't stop talking about murder and blood.

At first I thought it was just a cute quirk. Everyone and their obsessions. I mean my space obsession could be considered weird.

That was until one night he told me he can't wait for his next murder. He just blurted it out, stating a fact. I thought he was kidding and I smiled and said "Who will it be?"

Jack looked as honest as could be as he said "Whoever's next on my list of enemies. Or maybe just a random person I'll see on the street who'll inspire me I guess." I frowned.

I was sure he couldn't be serious. Just the thought of that was weird to wrap my head around. Yep my boyfriend's a murderer.

He continued saying "Ah the fear in their eyes is the best thing ever. Seeing their eyes widen as they realize it's the end. The blood dripping. So relaxing, life leaving a body. I miss it."

That was about when I realized there was something wrong. I did something I still feel guilty about. I googled Jack, googled murders, checked if there was any chance such a famous popular doctor like Jack could be a murderer.

Secrets began to uncover. Jack was indeed a murderer. Everyone was still aware of the Barakat Killer. No one had ever connected him with Jack Barakat. Such a respectful doctor, no way.

I broke up with him, moved away, started a new life. I didn't want to be caught up with Jacks insanity. I didn't want anything to do with it. I just fled. I never heard from Jack anymore.

But here he was standing above me. I stared at the smirk, the anticipation and excitement in his eyes. Right now those weren't the warm brown eyes I always associated with Jack but cold dark eyes that were empty like the voice he used to talk about murders.

I looked down. I was lying in hospital surgery table, my hands and legs tied to the table. I tried to move, with no avail. Jacks smile grew.

"Why do you want to leave me, babe?"

"Jack you're insane, let me go." I said trying to put power in my voice.

"But why? I love you. You're number 780 on my list. I've finally gotten to you. I've been wanting to do this for so long. But you know, I have to follow the list. I can't wait." The smile, that insane grin, grew.

He walked back and brought back a scalpel. I stared at it terrified. My heart couldn't stop pounding, sweat covering my entire body. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"Are you scared Alex? Do you want me to call a doctor?" He asked smirking.I stared at his cold eyes.

"Jack please. Jack you said you loved me, don't do this." He smiled that sinister smile and slowly brought the scalpel to my face. He started to slowly drag it along the side of my face.

"I love you Alex." He said, smile growing.

I closed my eyes, feeling the cold sensation of the blade on my skin, the awful stinging pain as blood slowly dripped. Jack continued to trace the blade all over my face.

I stared at Jack. His eyes looked enchanted, entranced. "Lovely. Just lovely." He whispered. My entire face was bleeding, thin not too deep lines of blood covering it. It was a sharp dull pain, stinging at first but slowly becoming dull and forgettable.

Jack cut my shirt with scalpel. He stared at it for a few minutes before tracing it with his long cold fingers. I stared at him feeling so terrified. He brought out a knife and slowly brought it closer to my torso.

"Jack! Please don't! Stop! Jack no!" I said.

"But babe, I love you. You're on my list. You left me." He said repeating his earlier words.

The blood loss was making me feel weaker and weaker. Jack started to cut exact straight lines on my stomach. The pain was simply awful. I can't even begin to describe it. Every cell screamed in pain. I couldn't move, couldn't escape.

Jacks growing smile was all I could see. Everything was becoming more and more faint, lines blurring. I was slowly losing consciousness.

"Jack." I whispered, letting the word slip through my lips, tasting it. The world blurred more until I was in the dark, completely lost consciousness.

Jack looked down at his lover. Blood covered his hands. He could feel Alex's week pulse slowly stopping. And that was it. Dead.

He stared at his brown hair gently hugging his face, his eyelids closed as if sleeping

. All the rush was gone. All the excitement and energy he'd gotten from the murder seemed to disappear. He wasn't feeling powerful or happy anymore. He was nothing more than a murder with his lovers blood on his hands.

That's when it truly hit him. Alex was dead. Alex was dead. Gone forever.

Out of everything Alex leaving him ruined him the most. Everything he had was put into his list of murders. But this was it. His last murder.

Alex looked like a little kid covered in red paint, his eyes closed gently, looking small on the table. It felt nice to imagine that instead of the horrifying alternative, the horrifying true alternative, that Jack had killed Alex. He didn't want to believe it.

Sometimes it felt like Jack couldn't separate between right and wrong, the real and the nonexistent. He remembered vaguely Alex's begging expression, the blood flowing but was it him? Did he really do that? Did he really kill his one love?

Tears started to drop as he felt the truth hit him. He killed Alex. He killed Alex. Not anyone else but him. The guilt slowly opened its never ending gates.

He opened his arms and hugged Alex. Alex who wasn't warm as usual but cold and missing a part of himself. Alex who wasn't alive, wasn't nothing more than another corpse.

He pushed Alex away from him suddenly furious at his quiet emptiness and watched as the body fell with him. The entire table fell to the floor. And Alex was still gone, not reacting to it all, not noticing the table on his legs.

Jack stared at it all with horror. That's when the shudders came, his entire body shaking with gut wrenching sobs,crying like nothing else.

He pushed the table away and held Alexs body in his arms, cuddling it like Alex always loved.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered. It felt like such a simple thing to say, nothing like the endless guilt he felt inside.

But the really sick part was that he felt pride. That's right, pride. With everything he's done, with the awful guilt, he felt pride at a job well done. He had finished the list. What now?

He could feel Alex's death like a weight, a anchor carrying him underwater, crushing him like the table on Alex. Alex weight on him made it worse.

With that he pushed away and turned around. He left Alex lying on the floor, with his torn shirt and bloodied face, simply going away.

In the end it was as easy as that.