Categories > Original > Horror


by BloodyAbattoir 0 reviews

You're a monster now, and it's all my fault.

Category: Horror - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Published: 2012-09-04 - Updated: 2012-09-04 - 446 words - Complete

What's the point anymore? Your life's gone to shit. Everyone's left you. The only couple of people you still care about are forever being hurt by you. You've become a monster. It was happening so slowly, you didn't notice. You were nearly a quarter of the way there, yet you didn't know. Then, in the space of 2 weeks, you fully completed the transformation. It scared you terribly. You didn't know what you were becoming.

Eventually, you learned to embrace it. You learned effectively how to hate, how to stop feeling. You began to distance yourself. You found peace in solitude, when before it had only scared you. You became colder. You were losing who you used to be. Realities that previously you denied out of fear, you embraced. You knew your life, whatever's left of it, would be empty. Never one for organization, you began to plan around it, every second of every day.

Your days are filled with repressed memories, and music cranked up too loud. Your nights are filled with nightmares and half-formed wishes if you're lucky. If not, you're left awake to the torments of your mind, to me. You spend your time berating yourself, avoiding meals, trying to starve yourself into oblivion, fueled by self-hatred. Perfect lines of red march up your arm, hand to elbow, down your leg, thigh to ankle, over both hips and a patch on your shoulder.

You're too ashamed to go out, to show the scars that you're covered in, your own handiwork, or should I say, mine? You and me, we were a great team, trying to gain sympathy from your parents. It barely worked. You were ready to give up. I took it a step further.

I drove everyone away from you, and it worked. You are my prisoner, and I will kill you. If the 2 hours of fitfull rest a night doesn't get you, the 500 calories maximum a day will slowly starve you out. If that doesn't, you'll cut too deep and bleed out while everyone else sleeps on, uncaring.

You stole his knife yesterday. You still have it. It's sharp. You know that you can't resist. If all else fails, your loneliness will get you if your self-hatred doesn't.

I'm almost finished with my task. Soon, he'll hate you, too. Then, I'm damn near positive you'll finally snap. I'll sever the last tie to humanity you still cling so weakly and pathetically and desperately to, if I don't kill you first.

You used to have a near perfect life. I took it from you. You've become a monster. I made you that way, and I'll be damned if I let you escape me.
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