The smirk from across the room is quite difficult to resist, tempting me, pulling me, begging me to come enjoy his company. He's acting as if his body is not going to drip blood onto the wooden floors, as if I'm going to abruptly change my mind in sparing his life. But my mind can't be easily persuaded, even when my body betrays me, even when sweat drips from my forehead, even when an ache arises in the pit of my stomach, starving for a man's touch, thirsting for a man's tongue against mine. Yet, his very death is the only thought in my mind, picturing limbs torn, veins ripped, blood pooling, eyes lifeless, and body completely destroyed, disintegrated, drained…
I wanted him once. He was a man true to his word, a once dominant human being who loved to take and take and take from women who weren't seen as independent, strong, or quite intelligent. Aren't all women seen as fools? Aren't we always seen as weak in the wake of a man's presence, in the very existence of a man's authority? Of course, we are always seen as beggars, as women who are asking for a man to take complete control of our bodies, our souls as they use every organ and flesh we have before throwing us into corners of whispering halls and black basements. Apparently, we want to be abused and neglected, get off on men craving for fragile parts of our bodies that are used to create life, used to even create these heartless beings with no means to appreciate women who made them exist! So here I was with a man who I believed was different from all the rest, who was a rare gift from God and respected everything I valued and everything I was worth.
But they were only lies once all his sins came to light, when those whispers of innocent requests turned into deadly crimes committed by his innocent lover who had no idea what to think when he told her, me, that he kills for fun, that his passion involved slaughtering humans who apparently disrespected his only desire to be on top. He had his own personal vendetta, seeking vengeance against those who had no right to doubt his authority, and now I have mine. He took everything from me! He changed me into someone I didn't desire to be, who taught me how to kill, to murder innocent lives and members of his business, who said using my body is the only way to please his little ego, and seduce the very part of him that is smaller than his mind.
So here I am, watching him from across the room, seeing what lies he is going to come up with this time. He knows I'm good at what I do. He taught me well, a little too well, if you ask me. It's quite easy to seduce men, to give me what I want, to do what I say. Sometimes, I become an artist because it's the only way for me to cope with what I've become. I've never really enjoy my duties, all the victims I myself have killed, but this one in particular gets me thrilled, excited, wanting to personally dance in his blood while drying on these hands.
"Baby," he says with a smirk, tilting his head in the chair as his wrists are tightly bound against the arm rests, "what are you doing? Weren't we just having fun at the ball? What is this?"
His eyes are smiling at mine, as if this whole idea is humorous, unpredictable, but humorous. I love how dressed up he looks in that suit; a white bottom-up with rolled up cuff links underneath his blazer and slacks, a sexy murderer, a devil in quite disguise. I walk towards him, my silky satin dress dragging against the surface of the floors, my black heels clicking against the polished wood of our home. I'm very slow in my steps, letting him watch me in hunger, admiring my body, my shape, my legs underneath the slit of my dress.
"Come on, now, darling," he bites his bottom lip, "what, cat got your tongue? I thought you loved me? I thought we were in this together? Soulmates? Lovers? Star-crossed lovers?"
"Fuck you," I say abruptly.
He chuckles, "Ah, there she is. There's my little Mia," he sighs, "why are you doing this right now? I had high hopes that I was going to fuck you tonight on the balcony. Isn't that your favorite spot? You remember, the first time we bought this house, I fucked you on that balcony how many times? Three, four, or was it five times? You couldn't get enough."
"God, you are always so annoying," I roll my eyes.
"And when we fucked on our neighbor's balcony? Now, that was a scene I tell you. I just killed Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson, or was it the Bukowskis, and you were wearing that little black slip I gave you a couple nights ago for our anniversary present," he laughs with every intention of making me hesitate, "it was a sight I tell you, a wonderful sight."
He stops laughing once I pull out a knife from underneath my dress, now standing in front of him with a thirst inside my being.
"You know," I smirk, "you're awfully lousy for someone who's a killer himself, do you know that? Is this how you act before plummeting in your own death?" I could see a shift in emotion, a change in his sight once I ease myself onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips. "I'm sorry, is that…is that fear I see? No, I must be mistaken. You afraid of me? How preposterous! My eyes must be deceiving me."
He quickly changes his emotion, protecting his vulnerability, ignoring my comments and accurate remarks, "But I thought we were at least friends, love. Didn't I provide you everything you needed, everything you wanted? Now, you betray me like this? I'd have to admit, it hurts."
I touch his face briefly, admiring his soft skin as I smooth back the piece of his hair dangling between his eyes, "I loved you once, yes. You were…everything to me, my own very personal role model who taught me the ways of the devil. But now…"
I plunge the knife into his chest, hearing him gasp in surprise as thick, red blood gushes out of his body, dripping onto the blade, consuming the fibers of my skin, "now this brings me joy, now I could care less about your death or who you were to me. You are nothing." I push the knife deeper into this flesh, desiring for more if not every dark substance to pool out of his veins.
His eyes widen as I stare into them, gasping for air, attempting to breathe against the sharp blade impaling his chest, choking underneath my body, "You… little…why…just why?"
I place my lips against his, loving the way his being suffers, "You know why. You took everything from me, restrained me, controlled me. This is the only way I can be free."
Suddenly, something jabs into the side of my waist, a sting, a pain, a needle infusing a substance into my body. I gasp, looking into his eyes as I find him smirking, having difficulty breathing as his blood continues to soak my hands and the material of my satin dress.
Something inside me convulses and my mind becomes foggy, dizzy, feeling nauseas and uncertain of my own awareness, "What…what did...you…do to me?"
I twisted the knife in his chest as blood begins to flood the base of his mouth, gasping, "I...I taught...you...nothing. Always…always...check the fucking...sleeves...darling."
I fall to the ground unexpectedly, taking the knife with me as it viciously tumbles against the surface, the syringe in his hand also doing the same. All the muscles in my body constrict, desperately gasping for air as exruciating pain surges through my veins and up the length of my spine. I become paralyzed in the moment, losing control of my own body while hearing him gag and choke on his metallic blood. His punctured wound that I embedded is now flooding all over his chest and body, his white clothing drenched in thick inundations of liquid too vile to even touch.
Unfortunately, we've both been struck by death. The only sounds we could hear within the silence of the room are each other's torturous short breaths of pain, struggling to hold on to life, our own very existence, even when we knew this would be the only way for our sins to be forgiven, to end suffering in the result of our own committed actions and crimes.
It's a tragic scenario, if I had to be honest, but I can't help but be truly satisfied once I heard that man's last dying breath, saw his corpse lying against that pitiful chair he used to call his, now painted a dark red color as if roses had bled all over his flesh. Beautiful.
Only now can I accept my fate. Only now can I die as well.