literature

Murder of Kate

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Literature Text

Bright red blood was splattered all over the room. The knife, crimson to the hilt and dripping, hung limply from his hand. He gazed fondly at the carnage, watching as the blood creeped down the cream-colored walls and seeped into the white carpet. It reminded him of blood on freshly-fallen snow.
He wiped the blood from his face and quickly climbed the stairs to finish his task. A devilish smile lit up his face as he saw the terror in his newest model's eyes.
"Did you miss me?" He asked, winking at her. "Your parents and brother gave me a bit of a struggle, but they won't be bothering us now." He smiled and held up the bloodied knife for her to see. Muffled sobs burst out of the girl from behind her gag and fresh tears began to fall from her dark eyes.
"That is perfect," he murmured, sitting at the foot of the bed to finish the sketch he'd started before the interruption. His eyes darted from the paper to the girl's half-naked body and back again, his hands working feverishly over his drawing.
The girl continued to sob pitifully and struggle against her bonds. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and let out a desperate cry in the hopes that someone -- anyone -- would hear her.
When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her. He snapped his sketchbook shut and placed it on the floor. Then he reached for her with the bloody knife.
She whimpered and watched the blade with wide, fearful eyes. He waved it slowly in front of her face, staring at her eyes as they followed it. He eased it closer and watched, fascinated, as fear took over all of the girl's pretty features.
He smiled and slipped the blade under the handkerchief he'd tied around her head to gag her. The fabric fell away from her cheek and he withdrew the knife, pulling the cloth out of the girl's mouth.
"What's your name?" He asked gently. The girl whimpered and sniffled a little, but said nothing.
"You do have a name, don't you?" He ran the knife's point down her bare stomach until it reached the hem of her panties.
"Surely such a pretty girl would have a pretty name."
He flipped the blade over and slit a deep, two-inch long cut into the girl's flesh below her bellybutton. She cried out in surprise and pain and tried to move away from him, but his strong hands held her in place. He brought his face so close to hers that she could feel the heat of his breath as he softly laughed.
"I can always make you less pretty." he told her, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Now, what's your name?"
The girl turned her head away from him and swallowed hard to choke back more tears. "Kate." She whispered softly. "My name is Kate."
"Ah, Kate." He said, pulling away from her to grab his sketchbook again. He wrote the name beside what he'd drawn. "Everything deserves a name. Don't you think so, Kate?"
He turned the book so that Kate could see what looked like a black-and-white photograph of herself, crying, half naked, bound and gagged. Kate stared in disbelief at the drawing until he closed the book and placed it gently on the floor.
"What do you want?" she asked him, her voice breaking.
"You are absolutely terrified." He whispered. "That's what I want."
He abruptly pushed himself away from her and reached for his sketchbook but paused as something on Kate's dresser caught his eye. With three quick steps he crossed the room and snatched up the framed photograph. He stared at it in silence for a long moment, admiring the girl standing next to Kate in the picture.
She was strikingly beautiful. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in shining black curls, framing her flawless face. Her perfect pink lips curved into one of the most appealing smiles he'd ever seen, illuminating her features.
And her eyes. Her stunning, intoxicating eyes.
They were dark, deep, unreadable pools of green. Their emerald depths drew his attention and refused to let go. He slipped the photograph out of its frame and looked at the back, his hopes skyrocketing as he read what was printed there.
"Kate and Anna: Best Friends Forever." He smiled and tossed the frame away, barely noticing as it collided with the floor and shattered.
Kate let out a little cry of surprise at the sudden sound. Her voice dragged him back to reality. He glanced over at her still fearful face and almost sighed. He was getting bored with his new model.
He carefully folded the picture in half and tucked it into his pocket.
"Are you going to rape me?" Kate asked tearfully.
The fear in her voice was enough to arouse a smile, but nothing more. He looked down at the floor and let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"No, Kate, I'm not going to rape you." He replied, slowly approaching her. His hand tightly gripped the knife behind his back. When he reached her, he leaned down and stared into her eyes.
"You're just another model."
With one quick, deliberate thrust, he plunged the knife into Kate's chest. Her scream turned to a wet gurgle as the sound of metal slicing through flesh and crunching bone echoed in her ears. After a few moments, her breathing stopped and she went still, the spark of life fading from her eyes.
Breathing hard from the rush of excitement, he pulled the photo out of his pocket again to stare at the beautiful girl called Anna.
"Anna," he said, savoring the taste of her name on his lips. He stared into those gorgeous emerald eyes again.
"You're mine."
Something I wrote about six years ago.
© 2014 - 2024 AryaDragonsong
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