Corrupted Soul

Corrupted Soul

There was no suicide, there are only murders.

A horrible and piercing cry was heard, like a knife plunging into the heart of those who heard. A girl opened her eyes suddenly, alerted by the cry. She was looking where he came to be as atrocious, when she realized he had his own throat. Why had she cried so hard? Especially sound too ... striking, which you plug the creeps if you do not know who pushed and where it comes from.

She woke up, like every morning, at the same time, in the same room fatal. White room, rotting walls for good reason. Moisture. The same gray window with the same filter bars the same light. She sighed, still the same vision on waking, it gives you the blues forever.

.. As every morning, She advances towards her door and looks through the small window carved in the middle, with still the same bars. She watched the "white bitch" as she was nicknamed. White blouse, pink complexion, always with the same damn fake smile ...

Dolls that would crush to exit that cell. Always the same desires by seeing them serve breakfast to the Other. Yes, the Others, she was not alone to be locked in a cage.

Not allowed to talk to them, to see them, except when they go out into the hallway. She put her hands through the bars, calling a hooker that white came almost immediately.

"Oh Hello Chloe. What do you want?"

Always the same question stupid and uninteresting. Chloe wanted to strangle her whether she remembered what she wanted all damn morning.

"My notebook and my pen please!" she muttered between her teeth, watching the smile she was always misplaced, and scary, but certainly not very sincere.

Can you imagine? See the same people every morning, the same smile, a kind of clones ... Atrocity! She took her notebook slipped between the bars, then threw himself on his bed, pencil in hand ... See where I had stopped ... she told herself.

"Sitting on her feet, her head pulled forward, thinking of the crazy world outside. Yes. Outside. Us, we are normal. They lock us where they lead us to believe that we are crazy. Fully calibrated. But we are normal! That would be pretty twisted to lock up people who did nothing? Crazy! It's them, crazy.

He too was mad. He loved me so much that he had locked up during days and nights will abstain from all souls who could be lapped. She saw no one but herself. He told me crazy, insane. Just because she was talking to Satan, but she spoke, she promises. It was not madness. She heard him, mocking her, whispering that everything was bad, through his subconscious ... Madness behind the walls ...

This sentence reasoning for days in her head. As she walked around the house is saying that he had built. A dirty piece. Two square meters, it's called a beautiful house it? She called it a tomb. She turned in like a lion in a cage, until he opens it, he does something. His hatred rose slowly towards her. Whenever daylight seeped he entered, smiling, a few seconds later into a grin infamous. He attached the stroking, the dirtying of saliva, without taking account of his cries. He said no one heard her, that he alone could enjoy delicious screams. And his vile laugh, she still hears reason in her head, when he enjoyed it when she felt his hot liquid fill, she screamed sighed in despair.

Each week, the same evening, the parade took place fatal. When that day it opened, she smiled wryly, hid the knife in her back that he had forgotten the last time when he cut her ties. He argued, ropes in hand, saying sweet words, she was not even listening. Curious to know what she had in her back, he leaned toward her when she left the weapon of liberation and loss. She thrust it into his throat, turning it slowly, savoring the least noise, the smallest of complaints. "

Chloe heard someone knocking, she uttered a curse, going to see his door from his nose through the bars, she saw a nurse.

"It's lunchtime Chloe, you were still writing?" she said with a grin.

She growled.

"Yes I write. Give me my tray, I'll manage."

The nurse complied, always with a smile puppet ... Chloe took her plate while she opened the door and sat down at his desk, leaving the meal tray. So I had to ... Ah! Yes!

She removed the knife from his throat. She pushed it back, he fell on his back, holding his throat. She found it amusing to see him squirm like a worm. She sat astride him, looking grim with a smile, him, he smiled more, had he? Was he sad because he did not pull his shot today? She laughed softly, aware of the knife stuck in the throat of his tormentor.

Soft feeling of freedom, she loved the feeling that she had never tasted. She walked slowly from his neck, licked slowly, brushing her neck with blood. She began to chew, then planted his teeth. She loved the feeling on the skin torn by teeth, his blood streaming down his face. She whispered in his ear the things he could not stand ... It's so beautiful when she introduced the knife deep in his skin ... she so loves her soft pleated look that ... He so beautiful when she smashes his ego ... She murmured, he moaned ... she liked it, oh yes! She liked it! His whole body was burning. What excitement when the blood down along her skin. Shivers funeral he traveled, she loved this.

She undressed him, cutting his clothes with her knife, cutting it a few times. He was finally stripped, he looked with her eyes closed set, a blank stare. She smiled, then grabbed his gun, looking up and down, wondering where she would begin her work. His eyes fell on the genitals. He was responding, moaning, seeing her watching his sex. She denied, saying she would make him pay her unborn child because of his little games daily.

This child rotting flesh making each day a little more patient. She took his penis in his hand, throwing him a look, she began, slowly, to hear him moan as much as possible. Ending cut this filthy body, she threw away her sight in the meantime, he had already fainted ... She made a little face, looking at her blade, red. She decided to end it, he could not live after what he had done. He had kidnapped, raped. Slowly, for days, in "Her" house, she murmured his death, as far as her own. She planted the blade into his chest, then sat down beside him, watching him.

Now because of this despicable neighbor, she is confined. Condemned. Answer crazy. She thinks an end to this moment, for the last word explanation of this misunderstood. He was the fool, not her. But he too is trapped ... Six Feet Under. Well done, he had only not to impose it. She will kill the child of Satan that is changing in her, he kills her. It was Satan, she had recognized the Rex Mundi.

Chloe put her pencil, then closed her notebook. She got up, went to her meal tray. Looking vaguely attitude, she took the fork.

Chloe has to die because of him, as he died, it was his fault ... Hers is just ... she said.

She stuck her fork in her arms from side to side, smiling at each drop of blood fell to the ground, now surging. She thought that it was not enough to die ... Then she took the knife and thrust it into her throat, preventing her from laughing at this sumptuous pain.

She knows them, they say it is abused, but ... "You never know when the urge takes you die, you do everything to!"

So she walked, staggering towards her closet, opening it slowly. There was his jacket, which he put at the beginning when she arrived ... She took it, wrapped around her neck ... and pressed as hard as she could. The knife plunged even more, she fell to the ground ... A strange smile on her face tattooed ...

So? Do you really think she was insane? With what he had to live, just because she heard something they did not believe.

If you perceive crazy is normal, you're the fools, yeah you. You are blind to anything that you are out of range.

Travel a little. Free your mind and fly to unknown horizons for you ... Maybe you will fall into the trap of making ... She became different, so mad ...

Look at you ... And ask yourself ... Are you crazy?

Karole McDowell 2010 - (c) Reproduction is prohibited without permission from the author.