The Prequel

You know how I know, you couldn’t handle me right now? Because I am so far out, I can’t reach myself.

I get these visions. High definition movies. So gory in their detail, the massacre. It scares me. It scares me that I enjoy it. I crave it. To see the contents of your stomach pouring down. The softness of your intestines and how I wish to take it and shove it inside your mouth. Or wrap it around your neck. Choke you. But, will it require much strength from my end? Did I not just tear open your belly? I see the fault in my plan now. That was too quick. Gruesome, as I wanted, but far too quick. I want you to feel the pain, slowly, in a rhythm before the crescendo is reached.
It is an art. The choices are far too many. So many. I could pop your skull with a gun or kill you in your sleep with poisons. But where’s the artistry in it? Where’s the thought behind it. It’s like a messed up assignment done in the last moment… I like planning. Months of planning, and studying to make an informed choice, going through all of my options. Weighing them, judging them. Sorting it in my mind.
I mean, you have been so important to me, you deserve to see me at my creative best. You did encourage me to believe in myself. I will believe in myself the most when I have burned your skin just enough for you to wish death upon yourself. I’ll strongly believe in myself, when I see your pleading eyes, acid burning through your skin, your throat screaming for mercy…
Will you be screaming? You shouldn’t scream. You need to save up on your energy. Those muscles will not pain any lesser if you use up all that you have now. It’s going to be a long night, after all…
Don’t disappoint me…

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