Monster
1/1
I’m wasted. I know this, I can feel it in my fingertips. My heart pounds, beating out red-stained water, faster and faster, as the scene before me blurs extravagantly, clothes and skin melding together like a painting.
I can feel hands curling around my waist delicately, and I can hear whispering in my ear. The hands touch my wrist, suddenly, fingers curl around it roughly. Protesting is a lost cause, as I open my mouth. “F-fucking no,” I slur. I catch a glimpse of myself blurred in the mirror.
I am wasted, I can see it, I can taste it. There’s a monster behind me, killing me slowly, and all I can do is watch the blurred image in the mirror, the one that has ruby red paint pounding so hard beneath papery flaky skin. All of the sudden, my whole skeletal system flashes at me, the ceramic bone, heart with the crack along the fissure, the whole system is fragile, broken, unglued.
My head feels like it will implode as his lips trail along my neck easily, so fucking easily. “Nooo,” I mumbled, trying to push him away.
But monsters don’t listen. He pushes me into the bedroom, and fuck fuck fuck, my brain feels like it will implode, and shit shit shit, his fingers are running along my chest, his fucking tongue is in my mouth, dipping into every curve and crevice violently, teeth grazing painfully against mine.
Monster monster monster MONSTER.
But I’m wasted, I’m wasted; I can feel it, I can taste it, and I can’t can’t can’t push him away. And vomit is rising up my throat, and I’m gripping at the sheets, they’re twisting under my fingers.
He’s sliding my jeans off, they’re hitting the floor and I’m spinning spinning spinning as his jeans follow them. And then his hands are on my waist, I know there’ll be inky bruises on them in a few hours, red welts will scar, where his fingers are digging in. And his body is above mine, moving faster faster faster, and he’s groaning and whimpering in pleasure and salt-water is falling.
Fucking killing me. It’s like he’s taken a knife and stabbed it in my heart, blood and skin spurting out onto the cheap sheets violently, we’re drowning in it drowning in it, and he’s laughing, he’s laughing; monster monster monster MONSTER. Murderer murderer murderder MURDERER.
And then he’s screaming every curse word in the dictionary, his hands are gripping so hard I’m horrified I might burst, my lungs might explode; bone and cranium splattering against the wall while he watches in fucking pleasure. And I vomit, the alkaline acidic taste filling my mouth angrily, spilling out onto the sheets messily, a yellow-green miserable colour.
He’s still grinning still grinning still grinning, and I’m still pleading pleading pleading for him to stop, but he doesn’t listen, doesn’t listen, just finishes me off and leaves me to die.
I’m wasted I’m wasted; I can feel it, I can taste it, but through it all, through the vomit and the alcohol, and the bitterness, I can taste him, as he walks out of the room, still laughing. Monster monster monster MONSTER.
And I’m drowning myself in the bed, suffocating myself, praying that I will just meld into the bed simple as the cheap fucking sheets. I will disintegrate, disappear, become invisible once more.
Oxygen stops, I can see my image in the mirror that’s across the room, I’m turning blue blue blue. My head is clouding up, threatening to explode with the pressure; it’s running through my mind, his fucking image is burning my retina’s, burning them, smoldering them. I know that my blood circulation will stop, stop my heart as it continues to break along the fissure line delicately. And then my pupils will dilate, and my blue skin will turn still white, and then nothing.
There’s nothing. Just the burning image of my monster, the monster that killed me; fucking killed me, as it goes black black black.
Monster monster monster MONSTER.
I can feel hands curling around my waist delicately, and I can hear whispering in my ear. The hands touch my wrist, suddenly, fingers curl around it roughly. Protesting is a lost cause, as I open my mouth. “F-fucking no,” I slur. I catch a glimpse of myself blurred in the mirror.
I am wasted, I can see it, I can taste it. There’s a monster behind me, killing me slowly, and all I can do is watch the blurred image in the mirror, the one that has ruby red paint pounding so hard beneath papery flaky skin. All of the sudden, my whole skeletal system flashes at me, the ceramic bone, heart with the crack along the fissure, the whole system is fragile, broken, unglued.
My head feels like it will implode as his lips trail along my neck easily, so fucking easily. “Nooo,” I mumbled, trying to push him away.
But monsters don’t listen. He pushes me into the bedroom, and fuck fuck fuck, my brain feels like it will implode, and shit shit shit, his fingers are running along my chest, his fucking tongue is in my mouth, dipping into every curve and crevice violently, teeth grazing painfully against mine.
Monster monster monster MONSTER.
But I’m wasted, I’m wasted; I can feel it, I can taste it, and I can’t can’t can’t push him away. And vomit is rising up my throat, and I’m gripping at the sheets, they’re twisting under my fingers.
He’s sliding my jeans off, they’re hitting the floor and I’m spinning spinning spinning as his jeans follow them. And then his hands are on my waist, I know there’ll be inky bruises on them in a few hours, red welts will scar, where his fingers are digging in. And his body is above mine, moving faster faster faster, and he’s groaning and whimpering in pleasure and salt-water is falling.
Fucking killing me. It’s like he’s taken a knife and stabbed it in my heart, blood and skin spurting out onto the cheap sheets violently, we’re drowning in it drowning in it, and he’s laughing, he’s laughing; monster monster monster MONSTER. Murderer murderer murderder MURDERER.
And then he’s screaming every curse word in the dictionary, his hands are gripping so hard I’m horrified I might burst, my lungs might explode; bone and cranium splattering against the wall while he watches in fucking pleasure. And I vomit, the alkaline acidic taste filling my mouth angrily, spilling out onto the sheets messily, a yellow-green miserable colour.
He’s still grinning still grinning still grinning, and I’m still pleading pleading pleading for him to stop, but he doesn’t listen, doesn’t listen, just finishes me off and leaves me to die.
I’m wasted I’m wasted; I can feel it, I can taste it, but through it all, through the vomit and the alcohol, and the bitterness, I can taste him, as he walks out of the room, still laughing. Monster monster monster MONSTER.
And I’m drowning myself in the bed, suffocating myself, praying that I will just meld into the bed simple as the cheap fucking sheets. I will disintegrate, disappear, become invisible once more.
Oxygen stops, I can see my image in the mirror that’s across the room, I’m turning blue blue blue. My head is clouding up, threatening to explode with the pressure; it’s running through my mind, his fucking image is burning my retina’s, burning them, smoldering them. I know that my blood circulation will stop, stop my heart as it continues to break along the fissure line delicately. And then my pupils will dilate, and my blue skin will turn still white, and then nothing.
There’s nothing. Just the burning image of my monster, the monster that killed me; fucking killed me, as it goes black black black.
Monster monster monster MONSTER.