OKay… so it’s been like, forever since I last wrote anything. I must get back in shape! lifting pencil weights.
Anyways… I don’t know if anyone remembers a little dark story I wrote oh so long ago called “Twisted Love.” well… I’ve gotten enough temptations of writing a sequel… so… I wrote a sequel! This one is shorter I think. But I hope you guys enjoy it!
Twisted Love: Scarlet Drops
The sounds of a dripping liquid was like music to my ears. It echoed in the silence of the darkness. The crimson color became black, once landing on the conceret floor beside my feet. I smiled down at my project, feeling the absolute sensation of success through out my body.
“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. White.” I spoke to the person on the table. I gather up my supplies, after cleaning them off with a white cloth, into the black bag. With one last look, I smiled. “What a lovely experiment you are.” With that said, I walked off, whistling my favorite child song.
Upon the table was a man of pale skin and dark brown hair. He was strapped down with leather belts by his wrists and ankles. His throat had been cut open deeply, killing him with the single swipe. This wound was sewn back together, of course. Along his wrists were deep cuts where I had explored the inside of his wrist. These were sewn back up with black iron thread. His stomach had been cut open, leaving a large empty hole, no oragans or anything inside. Above it on his chest was sewn words of ‘Loving Death’.
This man wasn’t the first of my victims. Yes, I have had many more before him. Not all were human though. Some were mamals, reptiles, and even insects. Above all, one of my favorites were that of the eight legged creatures, spiders. I’ve built a good reputation of being the ‘Modern Jack the Ripper.’ But I do not wish to be of good old Jack, but that of my own. His style was that of Prosititues. I wish to be different, so I select my victims that know me as a person. A family member or a friend.
The man upon the table was a friend. A boy friend, if you please.
I opened up the newspaper and flipped through the pages. I scanned the titles, “Man sets new world Record…” “Child found abused and raped in sewers…” and “…trail please guilty…” however, none of these seemed interesting. Getting tired of this I flip through the pages, coming across a photograph of my younger sister, Jessica with the title “Author successfully finsihes promising novel.” I couldn’t help but grin.
It’s been over three months since I last saw my sister, helpless on the Man Trap in my old home. She made a beautiful experiment. Jessica is the only one of my victims that I have allowed to live. A fatal mistake you may think, but I assure you I know very well of why I did that. Now, I think it is time to pay my dear Jessica a visit.
Jessica sat at her computer desk, typing her thoughts down. Her arms were exposed showing off a long scar along her right arm. She sipped from her cup of tea and decided to close it up for the night. Jessica turned off the computer and stood up to stretch. The young author walked across the living room and sat in the recliner, and turned the television on with a press of a button on the remote.
She only watched the movie for a few minutes before drifting off into sleep. Jessica later woke to the sound of a crash from her kitchen. She jolt up and panted a little. Her eyes searched the room from where she was before getting up and looking around.
When Jessica arriver in her kitchen, she found that a glass had been knocked over by a grey tabby cat. “Tigger…” she muttered under her breath. He meowed at her as she picked him up and placed him back on the ground. The fat cat scurried away and into another room.
Jessica shook her head and headed back to the livingroom. Upon her arrival she found one of the window’s opened with the curtains blowing with the wind. She quickly walked to it and closed it. She remembered she did not leave that window open. Then, the dreadful thought that someone else was in the house with her slammed into her mind. Her heart skipped a beat as her aderline pulsed through her veins.
Slowly, Jessica went to the front door, grabbing a cane from the bucket and held it tightly. Her house being a one story she didn’t have very many places to look. She looked around her front room, finding nothing out of order. Secondly was her kitchen and laundry room, however those were clear as well. Thirdly she looked in the bathroom only to find no one there as well.
Her bedroom was the last room she had to check. Gripping the cane rather tightly, she turned on her bedroom light. Slowly, Jessica looked behind things and under the bed. The last place was her closet. Ever since she was little, Jessica has always had a fear of the closet. As a young girl, she use to see red glowing eyes peering at her from within the closet. This always scared her so she had always kept the closet door shut and shut good. Gathering what little courage she could muster, Jessica placed her hand on the golden knob. Her heart was in her throat, her blood ran cold. The sockets creeked as the door opened.
“Boo.” I smiled at her, peering at her from within her closet.
Her screamed echoed in the room. Jessica was too scared to hold onto the cane, but it did not matter. I lundged at her before she could ven swing at me. I held her wrist tightly, forcing her to drop her only defense. I cupped my hand over my sisters red lips, cooing her to shush.
“Shush, Jessica. You wouldn’t want to upset me now would you?” I spoke calmly to her. Oh how I loved to see tears of fear crawl down her beautiful green eyes. She sobbed softly as I swiftly went around her, my hand caressed her throat as I twisted her arm behind her and snapped it out of place. Jessica gave a cry out with the sound of that crack.
I still held that arm with a painful pressure as I dragged her out of her room to her kitchen. Jessica tried hard not to sob loudly but the pain in her arm and shoulder was too much.
“P-please don’t…” I heard her mummer.
I couldn’t help but smirk for her. I held her arm tightly, opening her cabinet where my bag awaited me.
“Three months ago I let you live. This time, my dear sister, I won’t make the same assurance.” I told her.
From within my bag I pulled out some ropes and tied her wrists together, then her ankles and thighs. I left her with her pants, but I had to cut her shirt off to see her beautiful scar. Still there, my angelic mark. “How’s your new heart doing, Jessica?” I smiled twistedly at her.
“Chris… please don’t… please…” She begged me, her tears swelling harder than before.
“Aw, did you not miss me, sister?” I smirked at her. With a free line of robe, I pulled her over to her kitchen table and tied her down. Jessica knew if she struggled with me, her pain would only get worse. She only laid there, helpless and sobbing.
I searched in my bag for the scaple. “Which do you want to lose first; your life or a body part?” I questioned her only to get a cry in response. “Body part, I thought that too.” I grinned at her and brought the kinfe down to her scar. I swipped down, cutting her bra loose and then disgarded it to the floor. With her upper body exposed to me, I looked for a place to begin with. Her right side seemed to crave for attention.
With a simple motion I pressed the blade down, watching as scarlet bubbled out and then trailed down on to the table. Jessica held back a scream and tried nto to move. She could feel my blade moving along her skin, like a spider in search for warmth. I made a long cut from her right up, across to under her left breast. Then, I did the same to the other side, only under the right breast.
“Let’s see… what do I feel like doing for you… hmm…” I questionmed myself aloud, watching as the blood trailed down her body. The image of wings occured to me. I smiled and brought the knife to her stomach. She cried as I continued with my scarlet torture.
Soon I had stopped and started to clean and sewtcher her new scars up. When I finished, I smiled at them. Upon her skin were wings outstretched to her diaphram.
“Now, for the real fun.” I said to myself.
Jessica felt the sensation of nausea over come her sore body. Soon, her world blacked out and my little sister had drifted into unconscious.
“Wake up Jessica.” I spoke sternly.
Jessica stirred back from her sleep and looked around. She realised she was now in her bedroom, upon her bed still tied up. Her body felt so sore and weak. Jessica looked down at herself and found that a knife was barely poking inside her reopened scar.
“You’re in your death bed, Jessica, here is where you die.” I told her. I kneeled beside her in her bed and began to say a little prayer for her. “Rest in peice…” I said softly. I took the knife from her chest and brought it up, looking at her face. Her green eyes were filled with tears of pain and sadness. Tears I had seen in times of her need for comfort from me. I was caught in mid strike.
She closed her eyes just before the knife came down, ripping into the flesh. And then, Jessica felt something hit her head, knocking her out.
“And then, you blacked out? What did she do? Stab herself?” The police investigator asked Jessica as she laid in a hosptile bed.
“Yes, detective. That was when she knocked me out and called the police.” Jessica responded.
“Any idea where she is now?” he questioned.
“No. Chris was never one to stay in one place. By now I imagine she’s already out of town.” she answered.
“Jessica… your sister is said to be ‘Modern Jack’… leaving no survivers behind. Why do you think she let you live?” The Investigator looked at her, bewildered.
Jessica turned her attention away from him, hearing a sparrow outside her recovery room window. She smiled at it’s song. “Because… it’s her twisted way of love…” her words were soft.