Page 50
Story: Beneath Her Skin
“How- How did you know?” His voice shakes.
I didn’t, but my assumptions were right. That makes me even more sick. Ignoring his question, I slice through the center of his shirt, the buttons popping right off to expose his toned body to me. I’ve seen it so many times when I didn’t want to, all I want to do is deform it.
“Youare an insecure fuck.” I point the knife in his face. “A pathetic little bitch who only feels strong ‘cause daddy will bail you out of trouble. The only traits you inherited from your father were the useless ones, aside from all the money. I only wish I got the memo sooner, I might’ve let your daddy fuck me six ways to Sunday. Or even better, the sexy ass sister you drove away.” He doesn’t get time to fully process my outburst before I press thetip of the knife over his heart and place a finger over his lips. “Shh. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”
“What? No, listen-”
A piercing scream drowns out the rest of his sentence when I stab the middle of his cock through his pants, wiggling the knife excessively on the way out. The blade drags out with a wet, satisfying squelch. Pressing my palm over his mouth, I slash through his right peck and the asshole fucking bites me. I suck in a breath and tear through his stomach, barely restraining myself from going deeper. Humming loudly to the tune of ‘Pink Rover’, I drown both of them out while burning one side of the knife with the torch.
“No! No, get away!” Elias thrashes.
“Do I need to gag you?” Pausing to ponder, I think aloud, “That’s not a bad idea.” With a small shrug, I press the searing blade over the wound feeling a sense of calmness wash over me despite his shrieks reaching new heights. The acrid scent of burning flesh crawls into my nose as his skin bubbles and burns.
This is so satisfying. All of it. The sizzle. The control. The screams. The blood in my veins singing in tune with the demons in my head who are finally thriving.
“Jesús Cristo.This isn’t you. You are not the daughter I raised,” Bianca wails.
“This is exactly who I am, and I have you to thank for it.” I move slowly in her direction, watching her breath quicken with each step. “I’m only here to love you the same way you showed me you loved me all these years. I was once too small and weak to fight back. Now, we will see who can’t defend herself.” My voice drops to an echo of my previous words. “Are you ready to meet the monster you created?” In one swift motion, I slice through her shirt, ripping the fabric down to her navel.
“Tiana, stop this,” Bianca whimpers. It soon turns into a scream when I etch a tally mark onto her upper chest with the hot knife.
“I would advise you to shut the fuck up. I’ll mark you anytime you piss me off, and if you strike out,” I shrug nonchalantly. “Cállate o te callaré,” I echo the threat she’s used countless times on me.Shut up or I'll shut you up.
“Now,” I announce abruptly, turning my focus back on Elias. “Be a good boy and stay still so I can carve you up.” Sweat slips into his mouth when he opens it to respond, but I tsk. “Ope, you have no choice. Don’t worry, your lover will get a nice view of everything.”
The blade slices through Elias’ smooth skin effortlessly, his flesh tearing with a brutal rip. By the time I finish, the word COWARD spans his entire torso, two letters at a time. I twist the blade deeper on the last letter, and a fresh gush of crimson sprays across my face. Once his screams grow louder, hysterical laughter bursts from the pit of my stomach, drowning out any remorse or sympathy. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive as he gives in, and I can’t contain myself. It’s as if a small weight leaves me each time Mama screams or Elias sheds a tear.
‘I Feel Like A God’starts playing on my speaker and the only thing that makes sense is to turn it up to full volume. My eyes land on the tongs immediately after the first verse and an uncontrollable smile takes over. Singing along, “they sleep, but I bring the pain,” I revel in the fear that radiates from them both.
Bianca’s eyes bounce between me and the tongs as I approach her. I continue singing while repeating the heating process with the metal clamps. “No…Whatever you are thinking, do not do it.”
“You want to know what I’m thinking about? All the times I begged you to stop hitting me with any object within reach oversomething as stupid as spilling water on the floor,by accident.” I grit the last two words out, pointing the torch in her face.
“I- No, I was only trying to teach you wrong from right.” The expression on my mother’s face tells me she truly believes she isn’t wrong for making me black out from how hard she smashed a pan against my head.
That’s strike two.
Sweat mixes with tears and snot when the metal meets the skin on her shoulder as she writhes against the pillar uncontrollably. “AAY! Para. Stop.” Her cries fall on deaf ears as I focus on the crackle of her skin, before pulling off a chunk, slower than necessary. The stretch and tear releases tension from my shoulders, blood and watery fluids from the wounds, and an agonizing wail from Bianca. “I’ll do anything,” she pants out. Then, her words become unintelligible.
The smell of charred flesh stains the air with the reality of the situation—neither of them will live much longer, but they’ll suffer through to the end.
A wave of chills runs through my body at my mother’s reaction. The feeling must be unbearable. A smirk caresses my face at the thought. Bianca’s eyes dart around the room when I drop my torch on the table, but only shallow breaths leave her.
Everything about this is morbidly fascinating in a way that almost feels like foreplay. I’m high on power and drunk on my rage. The knowledge alone that I hold the decision of whether to slit their throats or shove something inside of them makes me giddy. My teeth sink into my bottom lip to contain my smile as I savor the moment.
“Open up, baby boy,” I sing once I reach Elias.
Fear isn’t what turns me on, despite it adding fuel to the fire. For years, fear is what has governed my life.
Act a certain way or else there will be consequences. You can’t have security if you’re alone. Don’t walk alone at nightbecause someone might snatch you up. Dress a certain way or else men will take the invitation where they find one. Obey and comply unless you want to be whipped into place. If you fight back, it’ll only make it worse for you.
I’m done being afraid.
It’s the violence I have unleashed and the possibility for more that turns me on more than I ever have been. I assume it has something to do with all the years I spent fantasizing about detailed torture and murder methods. I’ve always gravitated more toward gory movies than the usual, popular horror movies. It’s what fueled my daydreams.
Pain and violence live inside me. They are seeds that were planted long ago, and I took care to nurture them. Now, I’m flourishing in the wake of my rage.
Elias screws his mouth shut and drops his head. My free hand squeezes his cheeks, pinching over his nose. When he doesn’t want to budge, I knee him in the blood-soaked groin. That seems to do the trick. The second he opens his mouth, I shove the tongs as deep into his throat as possible until his gag reflex activates. I slap my hand over his mouth, but it does nothing to hold in the contents of his stomach. Mine gives out shortly after him, all over his shoes.
I didn’t, but my assumptions were right. That makes me even more sick. Ignoring his question, I slice through the center of his shirt, the buttons popping right off to expose his toned body to me. I’ve seen it so many times when I didn’t want to, all I want to do is deform it.
“Youare an insecure fuck.” I point the knife in his face. “A pathetic little bitch who only feels strong ‘cause daddy will bail you out of trouble. The only traits you inherited from your father were the useless ones, aside from all the money. I only wish I got the memo sooner, I might’ve let your daddy fuck me six ways to Sunday. Or even better, the sexy ass sister you drove away.” He doesn’t get time to fully process my outburst before I press thetip of the knife over his heart and place a finger over his lips. “Shh. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”
“What? No, listen-”
A piercing scream drowns out the rest of his sentence when I stab the middle of his cock through his pants, wiggling the knife excessively on the way out. The blade drags out with a wet, satisfying squelch. Pressing my palm over his mouth, I slash through his right peck and the asshole fucking bites me. I suck in a breath and tear through his stomach, barely restraining myself from going deeper. Humming loudly to the tune of ‘Pink Rover’, I drown both of them out while burning one side of the knife with the torch.
“No! No, get away!” Elias thrashes.
“Do I need to gag you?” Pausing to ponder, I think aloud, “That’s not a bad idea.” With a small shrug, I press the searing blade over the wound feeling a sense of calmness wash over me despite his shrieks reaching new heights. The acrid scent of burning flesh crawls into my nose as his skin bubbles and burns.
This is so satisfying. All of it. The sizzle. The control. The screams. The blood in my veins singing in tune with the demons in my head who are finally thriving.
“Jesús Cristo.This isn’t you. You are not the daughter I raised,” Bianca wails.
“This is exactly who I am, and I have you to thank for it.” I move slowly in her direction, watching her breath quicken with each step. “I’m only here to love you the same way you showed me you loved me all these years. I was once too small and weak to fight back. Now, we will see who can’t defend herself.” My voice drops to an echo of my previous words. “Are you ready to meet the monster you created?” In one swift motion, I slice through her shirt, ripping the fabric down to her navel.
“Tiana, stop this,” Bianca whimpers. It soon turns into a scream when I etch a tally mark onto her upper chest with the hot knife.
“I would advise you to shut the fuck up. I’ll mark you anytime you piss me off, and if you strike out,” I shrug nonchalantly. “Cállate o te callaré,” I echo the threat she’s used countless times on me.Shut up or I'll shut you up.
“Now,” I announce abruptly, turning my focus back on Elias. “Be a good boy and stay still so I can carve you up.” Sweat slips into his mouth when he opens it to respond, but I tsk. “Ope, you have no choice. Don’t worry, your lover will get a nice view of everything.”
The blade slices through Elias’ smooth skin effortlessly, his flesh tearing with a brutal rip. By the time I finish, the word COWARD spans his entire torso, two letters at a time. I twist the blade deeper on the last letter, and a fresh gush of crimson sprays across my face. Once his screams grow louder, hysterical laughter bursts from the pit of my stomach, drowning out any remorse or sympathy. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive as he gives in, and I can’t contain myself. It’s as if a small weight leaves me each time Mama screams or Elias sheds a tear.
‘I Feel Like A God’starts playing on my speaker and the only thing that makes sense is to turn it up to full volume. My eyes land on the tongs immediately after the first verse and an uncontrollable smile takes over. Singing along, “they sleep, but I bring the pain,” I revel in the fear that radiates from them both.
Bianca’s eyes bounce between me and the tongs as I approach her. I continue singing while repeating the heating process with the metal clamps. “No…Whatever you are thinking, do not do it.”
“You want to know what I’m thinking about? All the times I begged you to stop hitting me with any object within reach oversomething as stupid as spilling water on the floor,by accident.” I grit the last two words out, pointing the torch in her face.
“I- No, I was only trying to teach you wrong from right.” The expression on my mother’s face tells me she truly believes she isn’t wrong for making me black out from how hard she smashed a pan against my head.
That’s strike two.
Sweat mixes with tears and snot when the metal meets the skin on her shoulder as she writhes against the pillar uncontrollably. “AAY! Para. Stop.” Her cries fall on deaf ears as I focus on the crackle of her skin, before pulling off a chunk, slower than necessary. The stretch and tear releases tension from my shoulders, blood and watery fluids from the wounds, and an agonizing wail from Bianca. “I’ll do anything,” she pants out. Then, her words become unintelligible.
The smell of charred flesh stains the air with the reality of the situation—neither of them will live much longer, but they’ll suffer through to the end.
A wave of chills runs through my body at my mother’s reaction. The feeling must be unbearable. A smirk caresses my face at the thought. Bianca’s eyes dart around the room when I drop my torch on the table, but only shallow breaths leave her.
Everything about this is morbidly fascinating in a way that almost feels like foreplay. I’m high on power and drunk on my rage. The knowledge alone that I hold the decision of whether to slit their throats or shove something inside of them makes me giddy. My teeth sink into my bottom lip to contain my smile as I savor the moment.
“Open up, baby boy,” I sing once I reach Elias.
Fear isn’t what turns me on, despite it adding fuel to the fire. For years, fear is what has governed my life.
Act a certain way or else there will be consequences. You can’t have security if you’re alone. Don’t walk alone at nightbecause someone might snatch you up. Dress a certain way or else men will take the invitation where they find one. Obey and comply unless you want to be whipped into place. If you fight back, it’ll only make it worse for you.
I’m done being afraid.
It’s the violence I have unleashed and the possibility for more that turns me on more than I ever have been. I assume it has something to do with all the years I spent fantasizing about detailed torture and murder methods. I’ve always gravitated more toward gory movies than the usual, popular horror movies. It’s what fueled my daydreams.
Pain and violence live inside me. They are seeds that were planted long ago, and I took care to nurture them. Now, I’m flourishing in the wake of my rage.
Elias screws his mouth shut and drops his head. My free hand squeezes his cheeks, pinching over his nose. When he doesn’t want to budge, I knee him in the blood-soaked groin. That seems to do the trick. The second he opens his mouth, I shove the tongs as deep into his throat as possible until his gag reflex activates. I slap my hand over his mouth, but it does nothing to hold in the contents of his stomach. Mine gives out shortly after him, all over his shoes.
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