| [ |
mood |
| |
 horny |
] |
If you kill me slowly…..
People say they would do anything for love, but they don’t know what anything is. They have no idea what they’re in for, when they say that one little sentence. I didn’t know either, and I regret it now. I’m sitting here in jail because I did anything for love. This is where love got me. And my lover? She probably doesn’t remember me, as she flounces around in her new three-year-old body.
Yeah. She’d be three now.
anything for love
Five years earlier found me sitting in my room, running a knife lightly along my bedspread. It was the knife I kept in my sock drawer; it was the knife I used to slice my flesh in neat little lines; it was the knife I had used to slice my name, Braedon, into my girlfriend’s chest; and it was the knife I had used to slice my girlfriend’s name into my chest.
This knife was our “bonding knife”, as my girlfriend called it.
Currently, she was pacing around my room, occasionally glancing up at the walls and occasionally shooting sideways glimpses at me.
The walls of my room were covered in various posters, mainly postures of my favorite heavy metal bands. However, there were a few posters of barely-dressed women in scandalous poses. The light of my room was dim, bathing the ugly brown carpet which matched my drawers and bed frame in a very pathetic source of light. My room wasn’t very exciting, but I didn’t care, since all I used it for was getting hot with her.
“Why are you pacing, hun?” I asked her absently mindedly as I held my wrist upwards and gently placed the cold knife’s blade against my flesh. She glanced at me, at the knife, then back at me.
“My friend Chris died yesterday,” she said, sounding like she was reciting a fact and not a death.
“Oh,” I said disinterestedly, focusing on the sharp pain that erupted from my wrist when I flicked the knife across it.
Blood leaked out, and something blurred in my mind. I loved this feeling.
“Don’t you care?” she asked me, slipping onto the bed with me and for the first time, appearing to be calm.
“Of course,” I answered, refusing to take my eyes off the blood that ran down my arm. I was used to her questioning me about whether or not I cared if someone died. The first few times, I tried comforting her, but she had given me a long speech about why I shouldn’t care.
“That’s a lot of blood,” she commented.
“It is,” I agreed, then sliced another line identical to the first; over an old scar I had created weeks before.
“Give me that,” she mumbled, snatching the knife from my hand. She used it on her own wrist. I heard her skin resist the knife, but the knife won. Blood broke through the surface of her skin and she pressed the back of her head against the wall we were leaning against, biting her lip.
“I’m not upset,” she said, casting a glance at me. I looked back at her. I knew she wasn’t upset. Death didn’t upset her. “Everyone says I should be sad, but I’m not. Do you know why?”
Yes. I gave a small smirk and decided not to reply.
She looked away, ahead at the wall across from us; at a poster. “How can I be sad when I know she is just being born again in some other region of the world?” She paused to blow some of her brown hair out of her face. “She’s going to experience a whole new life, all over again. The lucky bitch.”
“You don’t miss her?” I nonchalantly reached for the knife, but she jerked it away from my range. I gave her an annoyed look, but she missed it completely. That, or didn’t care to react to it.
“Sure,” she said, nodding, then she dragged the knife down her arm, all the way to her elbow, as slowly as she could. While she was doing this, she whispered, “She’ll never remember me, Braedon. That hurts. And I’ll never see her as her again. Maybe, in a few years, a small toddler I see... that could be her. But I’ll never know,” she pulled the knife away from her skin, hissing lightly through her teeth. She glanced at me and raised a perfect eyebrow,
“You know?”
“Mm,” I mumbled and took the knife away from her. “That was a big one, babe.”
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, looking down at the collecting blood on her arm. She looked at me and tightly said,
“Braedon, I—”
She stopped when I hauled myself up and opened a drawer where I usually kept my old tests from school. My fucknut of a grandma insisted I kept them for some lame ass reason. I took out a roll of paper towel that I kept in there (the only useful thing in the whole drawer) and closed it with my knee.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. I handed it to her, and with a trembling hand, she took it from me. I settled back down beside her. She instinctively rested her head against my shoulder and sighed as she ripped some paper towel from the role. I clicked my tongue and slid the knife along my wrist, adding a third bloody line.
“Fuck,” I hissed, the pain finally registering in my mind.
“I want to,” she quipped. I gave her an amused sideways glance.
“When Grandma leaves,” I said. She worked the night shift today, until 6:00 AM, so I would be free of her for the rest of the night.
“Okay,” she said, then gasped when she apparently put too much pressure on her arm. “I’m so stupid,” she whispered, and I smirked.
I set the blood-soaked knife down against my black bedspread, not caring if I got it bloody, and leaned over to press my lips against her’s. She responded gently at first; almost timidly, before her tongue slipped out and ran along my lower lip.
“I want you to listen,” she said, placing her hands on my chest and lightly pushing me back. Our lips parted and I regarded her with impatience.
“What?” I asked her, but she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she laid down on my bed, past me. Her brown hair sprawled across the maroon pillow while her eyes, so much like ice, stared up at me.
“Lay beside me,” she practically pleaded, and I obeyed. She clung to me while I simply laced my fingers in her hair and stared up at the ceiling. A short silence overcame us both as we simply listened to each other’s breathing. I felt the knife by my leg and shoved it off the bed. It met with the carpet with a soft ‘thunk’.
A door slamming downstairs broke the silence. Shortly after, I heard a car start.
“She’s leaving,” I said, “We can fuck now.” However, I didn’t move.
“Not yet,” she hugged me closer to her and I closed my eyes as I felt her breath on my neck, “I want you to listen.” A pause. “No, I need you to listen.”
“Mm.”
“Braedon?”
“Hm?”
“Are you listening?”
I sighed and nodded, removing my hand from her hair to slide down her neck, back, and eventually resting on her hip. I felt her shudder against me.
“Does believing in reincarnation mean I am a dreamer?” she asked me, shifting slightly against me. I closed my eyes and grunted as a response, too busy focusing on how her hand gently stroked my chest, under my shirt. She made a frustrated sound, her fingernails suddenly gently yet urgently scratching against my bare skin.
“I just think... the end cannot be the end.” She sighed, her warm breath hitting my neck. “Can it?” she raised her head to look at me. My gaze shifted onto her eyes and I shrugged. I didn’t feel like finding out the fucking meaning of life, or whatever she was babbling about. I had no idea why she was always ranting on about this shit, but I loved her anyways.
Actually, for some strange reason, I found that I loved listening to her theories about life and death. It seemed as if she lived for death.
She was a strange girl, but that was what caught my attention.
“It’s just too depressing,” she said, laying her head back down and nuzzling her nose against my neck. It tickled slightly, making me shudder a little. She giggled, but was soon serious again. “Why live to die?” I wasn’t sure if she was asking me, or asking the world. “Why not die to live?”
I closed my eyes again and breathed gently through my nose as I slipped my fingers beneath the waistline of her jeans. Her legs wrapped around mine just as I found the side string of her thong and twirled my finger around it.
“That’s what I believe,” she said softly, placing a small kiss on my neck, “And I’m pretty damned confident in my chosen theory, too.”
I nodded slightly, but I didn’t really know why. I pulled the string up slightly so it was riding up past her hip. She placed her hand on mine and flicked her tongue out against my neck.
“Why does it taunt me so?” she asked me, straining her neck up to see my face. I opened one eye and peeked up at her.
“Why does what taunt you so?” I asked, then raised an eyebrow when she smiled almost reluctantly.
“Death.”
“How’s it taunting you?” I frowned, then closed my eye just as she reached up to brush a strand of my rebellious black hair out of my face. With the hand that wasn’t playing with her thong, I reached up and grabbed her wrist.
“Because I can’t figure it out,” she answered me in a tone which basically told me I should have known that. She watched as I kissed the tip of her index finger, then moved to do the same to her middle finger.
“People all around us fear death,” she said lightly, looking down at my chest in thought. “But I can’t see why.”
“They don’t know what to expect,” I answered her, kissing her third finger.
“Who cares?” she scoffed and moved her hand out of my grasp and tucked it under her chin as she relaxed her head on my shoulder. “So, who cares if you don’t know what death will hold for you? Honestly. I see it just as a gateway to another life.”
“Others may not.”
“They’re fucking stupid,” she snorted, and my lips twitched upwards at this. She shifted until she was sitting on my stomach and lowered her lips to my throat as she reached for the top of my head and gently pushed it back, so my throat was fully exposed to her. “To be reborn is the most exciting thing I can think of,” she told me before running her tongue along my throat, making me shift slightly.
I loved that.
Who cared if my girlfriend was fascinated by all aspects of death, especially reincarnation? She was beautiful, and I loved her and what she could do to me.
“So,” I hissed while she began sucking on my throat. I shifted more; it faintly hurt, but I didn’t mind. She began sucking harder while I untangled my fingers from her thong and ran my hand up to the bottom of her rib cage, bringing her shirt up with them. “So,” I repeated, “The point of all that was...?”
After finishing with her mark on my neck, she pulled back and smiled at me; smiled a strange smile which made me slightly uncomfortable. “Do you love me?” she asked me, using her delicate fingers to push some of her hair off her shoulder.
I raised an eyebrow and nodded as I said, “Yeah, of course.”
“Say it.”
I hesitated, wondering what this was all about. “I love you.”
She leaned down and kissed me; our lips molding together and seeming to fit perfectly. She tasted so delicious; strangely tangy yet with a tinge of her cherry lip gloss. Most of it had been wiped off already, however. She pulled back much sooner than I would have liked and again, that strange smile returned.
"I love you, too,” she said.
“I know,” I nodded.
“Braedon,” she looked down again, at my chest, and began tracing patterns on it with her painted fingernails. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm close to my lips so I could kiss the red streak that ran down her arm. The cut, which still bled a little. I kissed the bloody, wounded and irritated skin from the elbow to the wrist while she watched me the entire time, her eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. When I finished, she weakly asked, “Will you do anything for me?”
I sat up, pushing her down onto my lap, and rested my hands on her hips. “Babe, of course I will.” I paused to watch a full smile flicker onto her lips. “What do you need?” I asked.
She swallowed, then bit her lip nervously. I frowned and watch her grow more and more anxious.
“Come on, hun,” I whispered, placing my forehead against hers, “I’ll be with you all the way.”
“I know you will be,” she almost laughed, but it was too brief and quiet to be considered real, “That’s why I love you. We’re both so odd and dark. I could never find another guy like you.”
I smirked.
“Which is why,” she stopped to suck in a breath, “I want you to...”
I cocked my head curiously.
“Kill me,” she finished, her gaze continuously fluttering back and forth between my eyes and chest.
I stared at her in complete shock. I seemed to have forgotten how to speak; how to hear; how to register words through my mind. My thoughts became nothing but mud in my mind and I felt like a stone, unable to function.
What the fuck had she just said?
“Braedon.” Upon seeing that she was losing me, she put her hands on mine and kissed me again. I couldn’t kiss her back; I couldn’t even make my lips move.My whole body was paralyzed, physically and mentally. She kept kissing me nonetheless, and as she did so, I managed to finally process a thought that danced back and forth in my mind.
She’s only joking, she’s only joking.
“Baby,” I finally managed to breathe out against her lips. She pulled back and hesitantly smiled. “You’re fucking playing, right?”
She shook her head, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. Those ice-like blue eyes stared down at me almost tauntingly. She was serious — she was fucking serious. She wanted me to fucking kill her.
“You’ve gone mad,” I said hollowly. She slipped off my lap and scratched her arm — the one that wasn’t leaking out blood. She reached down, over my bed, and picked up the bloodied knife, then leaned back against the wall we had been leaning against only minutes earlier.
“I haven’t,” she protested calmly.
I turned to look at her in disbelief. My girlfriend, my lover; the one I cared about more than anything wanted to leave my life and she wanted me to do her the honors.
“I know about your fucking obsession with death, but you don’t have to take it this far—”
“I want to be an experiment,” she cut me off, refusing to look at me. She twirled the knife in her hands almost violently, which made me wonder if she was angry with me for arguing with her. She had always been extremely protective of her theory, but she never usually got angry over it.
“An experiment?” I echoed, confused.
“Well, I have to!” she smiled oddly, “How else would I know?”
“Know what?” I practically spat.
Slowly, she finally looked up at me. Her eyes were pleading and determined; she wanted this so bad. She was living for this. She was living for me to kill her. This was morbid; disgusting; wrong. Completely unnatural.
“If you kill me slowly, I just might remember my last moments throughout death.”
I slumped my shoulders, lost. “I don’t get it.”
She suddenly shifted towards me, excitement flaring to life in her beautiful blue eyes, “If you kill me slowly, if I remember my death even during death,” she paused to take a deep breath, “Maybe... just maybe, in my next life, I will remember it. I’ll remember you, too, because you’ll have been the one to kill me.” She had practically rushed the words out, making them stumble over each other. I stared at her in complete shock.
Fuck, why couldn’t she just suddenly laugh and tell me this was all a joke?
“You think I’m mad, don’t you?” she suddenly sighed, sitting back against the wall. She drew her legs up to her chest and hugged them, looking disappointed. “I really thought you understood, Braedon. Hell, you were absolutely perfect. You were just like me.”
I looked up at the ceiling, then back down at my girlfriend and moved to sit in front of her, on my knees. I grabbed her hands and pulled her up to me, watching as she uncertainly allowed me to pull her into my arms. I kissed her forehead and softly said, “It won’t work, you know that, right?”
She bristled. “Why not?”
“Have you seen some of the ways people have died in the past, babe?” I said pointedly, “Do these people come back alive as a baby and suddenly remember how brutally killed they had been in their past life?”
“Perhaps,” she shrugged against me, pulling back and beginning to play with the sleeve of my shirt, “You don’t know if they do or not.”
“You’re stupid,” I couldn’t help but blurt out. I felt her flinch against me.
"Braedon,” she snapped, “They probably pass it off as some dream. I wont. I’m not like that.”
“In your next life, you could be.”
“No, I won’t be.”
I sighed and looked down at her, shaking my head. “I honestly think you’ve lost it. Hun, you won’t just pop out of your mom with horrid scars all across your abdomen, or with your eyeballs falling out of their sockets.”
“Of course not!” She almost laughed, but she caught my eye and her smile faded. “This is entirely psychological,” she explained.
I closed my eyes and gritted out through clenched teeth, “You’re so stupid.”
“Do you love me?” she asked me, placing her hands on either sides of my neck to keep eye contact.
“Yes, baby, I love you,” I answered.
“Then do this for me.”
“I can’t kill you babe. I love you too much.”
“If you really love me, you would do this for me,” she pleaded, looking truly torn, “This is my dream, Braedon. This is my chance to prove to myself that reincarnation is possible.”
“You’re insane,” I sighed. She intertwined our fingers and leaned up to kiss me again. This time I responded; roughly; eagerly. She groaned against my lips, encouraging me. I pressed her up against the wall while her hands ran through my black hair, messing it up even worse than it usually was. I felt her press the handle of the knife into my hand and I uncertainly took it. She smiled against my lips, but I could feel her heart throbbing against her chest almost violently.
She was terrified.
“Baby, come on,” I whispered, “You’re... you can’t make me do this.”
“I need you to,” she hissed back, eagerness laced in her voice. “Please, Braedon. I need to know.”
Our lips merged once again and I slid her down onto her back. Her head rested comfortably against the red pillow. Her fingers ran along my wrist; along the bloody cuts I had given myself. I gasped sharply at the contact, but I could have cared less.
She took the hand that held the knife and guided it to her chest.
“Kill me, slowly and painfully so I can remember,” she whispered against my lips, “Kill me like it’s how you show me your love.”
And because I would do anything for love, I did.
But now that I look back, I think I did it, more than anything, because I hated her.
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
silenttestimony's journal
cranky
confused
sleepy
nostalgic
hungry
cold
Dust Bunny!!
*faints*