caution : not for the weak stomached.
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| Read Lloyd's incredibly gross story caution : not for the weak stomached. |
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| You hold the knife in your hands, it feels warm because you�ve been holding it for so long. You find out it�s edge is razor sharp as it passes easily through his skin and bone alike. Blood glistens off the blade. He SCREAMS in pain! It�s a good thing you�ve tied him down. Suddenly you find yourself bored, it�s too easy. You move the knife to the ropes. The blood changes their colour to a deep red. The knife once again slices through skin, you�ve slit his hands as well as the ropes. He�s weak but still he springs from the chair, a look of rage and terror in his eyes. You see his clothes are also soaked in blood, you smile. Why hadn�t you done this years ago? He looks franticly around the room for something to hit you with, but you�ve thought this through. Imagined it a thousand times in your head, when you�d finally finish this. The room is empty. He grabs the chair and throws it at you. You didn�t know you made him that weak. You push the chair out of the way effortlessly. It splinters against the wall. You slowly walk towards him with the steely sharp edge held so tightly in your hand your knuckles turn white. He begins to cower in the corner. You stand over him, happy you�re able to plunge fear so deep in his heart. You place the knife against the back of his head and cut through layers of skin until you reach the skull. He cries out in agony and hits your shins with his arm. Ouch, he shouldn�t have done that. Suddenly his mood changes, he wants to kill you, he lunges for the broken chair, but you won�t let him go that easily, you jab the blade into his leg and rip it down the side so he bleeds uncontrollably. He grabs a stake from the chair and runs at you. He swings it at you from the side, but he is slow and you effortlessly duck under the attack. You pierce his stomach, you didn�t mean to but the knife goes very deep. He backs away and falls to the ground in a tangled mess. You move closer to inspect the wound, you hope he�s not dead, not yet. He isn�t you move the knife along his chest, leaving bloody lines as you go you flip him over and stick the edge into his back, directly into the spine. The wickedly sharp dagger slices the bone and you manage to rip some of it from his back. It�s a mixed shade of red and white. Now you think, he�s dead. | ||||||