PSYCHOLOGICAL MURDER STORY

                                        "THE FALL OF A CHEATER"

Blood; when he opened his eyes, which weigh like thousand dumbbells put together, the first thing he saw was blood.

His breathing hitched as he realized he was tied together with a chair and was left in the floor. He couldn’t move. Everything hurt; every small movement from him made the pain grew unbearable.

‘Where am I?’

There was no light, no air, nothing. The place was cluttered and there were strange sounds from above his head and then there was his own thundering heart-beat.

That was it; he was going to die. He knew the truth clearly in that instant.

Then there was light, so much light that it hurt his eyes. He closed his eyes, a painful moan escaping his lips.

“Open your eyes.” the voice was familiar; not just familiar, but more than just well-known.

It was the voice he had heard through his phone everyday; the voice that had greeted him lovingly on every morning.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gasped.

She was there, dressed in a dark and full sleeved black shirt and dark tight fitting pants, looking like an avenging angel. Her hair hung down on her back, playing with the wind.

Her lips were pulled down condemningly and he shrunk back in fear. Her eyes held so much venom that he could taste them in his tongue.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was a whisper. He didn’t have strength to fight back or scream for help; wherever he was, he knew it was away from human civilization, or was it?

“A job to finish, Derrick. A soul to take, a life to end,” She winked as she pulled her favorite scythe out.

Her eyes were cold and cruel; menacing; a dark soulless pool. A self satisfied smirk appeared across her lips when she saw him flinching back.

Fear, it gave her such power and ecstasy and she loved it so much, even addicted to it like it was her own special brand of drugs.

“What?” he asked scared at this strange girl in front of him. He knew her, a sweet, smiling angel, but now she looked like a dark, sinister fallen angel.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Her voice was disapproving. Her dark eyes assessed him before she dejectedly shook her head.

“Why should you do it? We were happy, weren’t we?” Her raised voice dipped low, pain lacing her every words like she was actually in pain. It cut his heart deeply, leaving a gaping hole.

“Ok, enough emotional stuff. Let’s proceed to the next part of the game, confession time!” She cheered, slapping a solid hand on his shoulder.

“Come; out with it!”

He didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but he knew what this was about. She knew. She had known it. But she didn’t take it easy like other girls would, that was crying and calling him names. She was different, she always was. But this… He didn’t expect.

“I love art, carving, when I was a small child.” She said before untying his left hand.

“You always want to know about my family; my childhood days; when you still found me attractive. I’ll tell you everything you want to know now, but do you still want to hear it?”

A rueful smile slipped past her pressed lips and his heart froze. No way was he escaping this fate. He knew it in his bones that when everything was done and said, he’d finally be breathing his last breath- painfully.

Then she opened her back pack, discovered a chisel and a carving dagger. His eyes narrowed at the instruments; they looked old, rusty even. If he didn’t die of the cut, he would die because of the infection.

“I’m rich; my family owns a big three storey house in the north of Florida. That isn’t just it; my dad is one of the famous business man; I grow up like a princess; car and chauffeurs; cooking maid and a maid just to do to my bidding; a play pal, carefully selected. Oh, I am what you can call as a princess.”

“First off, did I say IS?! Oh, that is WAS.” Her teeth gleamed in the light as she laughed.

Her hand was now working on his hand.

Pain ripped him as he tried to pull his hand away. The carving blade in her fingers swiftly finished the process. She lifted his hand close to her face, looking quite proud of her work.

“Didn’t it look beautiful?”

She showed him his hand, after nearly wiped all the blood on the surrounding of the cut, making her first cut visible and clean.

It was a C, intricate in its pattern and swirls. The curve was neat, as if she had practiced writing in skin for years.

“Looking good? Or not?” her voice rose in decibel when she realized he wasn’t admiring her handiwork. He looked up swiftly, bile rising in his throat before he nodded.

“What happened to my family, you may wonder! Wait; are you wondering.” Her words were stern. He nodded hurriedly.

“Are you dumb?”

“Yes, I’m wondering about your family.” He slurred like he had just finished bottles of alcohol. But it was the loss of blood that had done this to him.

“Oh, why the hell are you wondering?” she slapped him lightly, an almost playful smile on her face. Then she leaned in and pouted, “You really don’t want to know, but trust me; you have no choice.” She shook her head with a sad smile.

He almost believed she was really sorry for him, but then the sadness was replaced suddenly by cold aloofness. It was a spontaneous change that let him breathless.

He was scared sh*tless. 

What was with the mood swings?

“My family; it WAS a great one. My mom was always happy. She sang while cooking; she was a great mom; my dad WAS good too. He loved me, loved my mom and loved my family. But…”

She stopped and smirked at his hand. He looked at it to see an ‘H’ now neatly sitting next to the ‘C’, with same swirls and cuts. She then poured the liquid she had over his hand and he screamed.

“Sshhh. People are sleeping.” She admonished.

“Don’t you like this font? It is Edwardian Script ITC; I’ve always liked this one while I’m typing, but if you don’t like it, then can we try something else? What will be your choice? No Arial though, it’s too plain. I want to work on it, make it look good.”

Her voice was so calm; it was like she was just talking about carving something in a stone rather than using his hand for proving her fine art skill.

Even though he felt dizzy and aching, he had to give her that: The letters she carved did look good, and he knew it took great deal of training. 

So how many times did she do this before?

Was this the only thing she was exceptional at, or was she experienced in killing too?

“Tell me.” She ordered. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s fine, go on.” He said and blamed his fate for this moment. It was so surreal, yet so real. He felt as if he was in a nightmare; but nightmare didn’t bring bodily ache and pain.

“Where did I stop? Yeah, he loved me; my mom. But everything changed one fine day. Oh, you wouldn’t call disastrous moment in your life a fine day, right?! Ok, where was I? One day he came home, drunk and destroyed. His brutal voice was one I’d never heard. He slammed my mom to the wall and picked me up, threw me in the air. That night my mom and I suffered from pain and blood loss.”

“That wasn’t the end. As days passed by, he wasn’t home almost all the time and when he was there, he wouldn’t talk with us, silently moved past us as if we were invisible. God, I hated him, like I hated nothing in my life my 15 years.”

“I am so sorry!” He said, trying to avoid her eyes.

“No you aren’t sorry, you can’t be sorry, you b*stard!” She threw her head back and laughed loudly. The sound bounced on the empty walls and echoed inside his head, like a loud ringing.

“Wow, I am getting better at this!” A victorious smile appeared in her lips as she watched his hand.

He now noticed what she was doing. She was distracting him from his hand by her story telling. Even though she was doing this all to hurt him, she was still the thoughtful girl he knew. It gave him hope.

He could escape, if he used the right words and pleaded.

“The E is better than the other two.” She admired, before showing him his bloodied hand. He wanted to puke. His head spun in dizziness and he was soon going to faint.

“Then we, I and mom realized his face to us before was an act. He never truly loved us; he used us to get my mom’s company. So when all was done and finished, he started to treat us like crap. That wasn’t just it, the whole time he pretended to be in love with my mom, he was sleeping with some other b*tch, the whole damn time. A cheater, he was.”

The ‘A’ was now completed. He looked at it with dejection clear in his eyes, his hope withering when she proceeded with her story.

“He started to bring that sl*t to my home; my beautiful home; he slept with her in the room where he slept with my mom. My mom was helpless and she was in agony; she couldn’t bear the cruelty of this all and one day she just killed herself before my own eyes.” her voice cracked a bit at the end and then she laughed loudly.

The sound echoed in the empty room, sounding dark and sinister. She clutched her stomach before choking for breath.

“The b*stard thought he was now free to do whatever he wanted to do. He didn’t even care, I, his 15 years old daughter was still in the house. The case was just closed; my mom was marked as a woman who killed herself, because she was insane. Insane? Do you hear me? They called her insane?!” She poked his chest.

“The T was slightly tilted, sh*t,” she said before looking up at him.

Death always affected her at first, but as time passes by, she was okay with her life. She liked it this way, now. She started it at 15, but now she was 19 and time eased the fear and feeling of nausea she’d feel after hours of her kill.

“You know why I’m now a beggar, romping from street to street?”

“No?!” he said.

“Any good guesses?”

“Your father pushed you out!” He didn’t know why he was playing this game with her, but he didn’t want to anger her any further.

“No, let’s talk about it later!” She pushed him slightly, affectionately, before finishing her next letter E.

“My father neglected me; he abandoned me after my mother’s death; I was never cured after my mother’s death. My insanity grew like a ferocious ogre. It twisted inside me, branching violent thoughts inside my mind. Schizophrenia is like having two YOU inside you, fighting with each other. It wasn’t conscience, it was something more vulgar, more demanding, more alluring, more addicting. My anger grew with each passing days and one day I couldn’t control my lust anymore!”

She licked her lips, looking just like a cruel vampire he saw in some horror films.

Did she want his blood? Going to taste it?

“I ran away, because I killed my Dad!”

The R was completely finished now.

A small gasp left his lips and then he looked at his hand.

CHEATER was engraved in his hand, curls and curves, neat and on place. The R was still left undone.

“You are just a cheater like him, why couldn’t you just break up with me before seeing the other girl?” One side of her lips lifted up in a sneer.

He didn’t want to close his eyes. Because he knew he wouldn’t wake up come next morning, but when she finally finished the final curve of the R, over his veins, blood poured out like stream, before his head hit his shoulder.

“Good bye, your fall is epic, Derrick. Nice meeting you too!”

…………

FLASH NEWS: The fall of a cheater

It had been reported that Derrick Lecher, a bar attendant cheated on his girlfriend Victoria Mane; the angry girlfriend planned his death, in an artistic way. She carved CHEATER on his hand, with R resting slightly over his veins and that killed him instantly; too much blood loss.

The chief police office Carlo Smiths said after arresting the suspect “It was cruel and heartless; but if I am being truthful, it appealed to my artistic side. She has hands that can seriously do wonders. So bad that she used it for killing.”

It isn’t anymore a ‘just kill ‘em’ it’s now more than that. And if it continues, there will be no promises for tomorrow morning

…………. 

Her lips curled as she read the flash news two days later.

Thankfully no one suspected her. She knew no one would; her plan was neat; even a professional killer would be ashamed when he met her.

After she killed him, of course inside his own apartment, she left the room, not before collecting her every instrument.

She then walked towards her next victim’s house. It was the house of the girl Derrick had cheated her with!

“Why couldn’t you lay your hand off of other woman’s man; people like you don’t belong in the outside world!” She whispered to the unconscious girl in the bed. She had already administered anesthesia to the girl.

She opened the back and took out the knife with frozen blood. And then wrapped it neatly around the girls hand and took it back.

She was careful not to erase the prints. Then she threw the knife in the girl’s big backyard. It was a plus that the girl’s house had a dry well; a perfect place to discard the equipment used for killing.

When the girl was framed, she left for her own hide and removed her hand gloves. Used cleanser and wiped the blood off, and then slept… Like a baby!

So now Victoria was arrested for the killing performed by her and she got the honor of ‘her’ artistic skill. That was the only regret.

No one would ever realize she was the one who he had cheated with Victoria. Because people had their own life to live. They’d talk for days and would move on!

The day was sunny and still fresh. She dressed in her dark denims and white sweatshirt before leaving her hide and walked towards her favorite coffee shop.

She was going to treat herself with a caramel cappuccino and chocolate truffle cakes. She needed it after three long days of waiting and anticipating. She deserved this.

After all, she save the world form one more cruel, cheating manwh*re and one more underhanded, manipulating b*tch!

World would soon become a better place to live!!! She at least hoped so!

~~~~~~

A YEAR LATER

# Victoria was sentenced for all her life. She still didn’t know what happened that night, but she knew just one thing, she was framed and she knew she couldn’t escape this fate that befalls her. Life was really unpredictable!

# Derrick was buried; his grave had the most wonderful quotes designed by Alexandria Trafford, a writer, who wrote quotes for living. “Born 1987, cheated 2012 and died the same year, an artful death by a girlfriend. Men should learn from his life; females are no longer weak and incompetent. They know needle works and they’d been cutting vegetables their entire life. Cutting (hu) man wouldn’t be difficult!” The quote was too long; but she liked it and it was really enlightening, according to her.

~~~~~

She leaned against the picket fence, nibbling her lower lips. It had been years since the thrill. She needed time. She wanted time.

Sometimes she wished, hoped to get someone who would truly love her.

Not like her soulless father; not like her first admirer Ryan; not like her best friend’s lover, Shayne, whom she killed for her dead friend; not like Derrick. But someone true and caring.

Maybe then she would be free from this insanity, this schizophrenia. She wanted to be normal, but normal was far away from her hands.

“Alexia, don’t you want to eat?” It was Xavier’s voice.

He was a nice looking man, but she had seen traces of her dad, Derrick, Shayne, and Ryan in him. He had those wandering eyes, which seemed to swallow people.

“No, I’m perfect.” She whispered.

“Ok, did you finish your quote for the man who died yesterday?” He asked conversationally.

“Yes; it was delivered.”

“DO you- umm- do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asked in a rush.

She decided to say no. She wanted to move away from this.

This game had become tiring and she was immersing inside the welcoming hands of insanity and depression. More blood only meant more torture for her mind.

“No.” But her voice was unheeded as his head snapped to his left, and it fixated itself on some blonde girl swaying past them, showing her assets to be pried by the eyes of waiting hawk.

Her words were frozen, as her lips twisted into a cold, spine chilling smile. The cruel glint in her eyes intensified when she noticed the hungry lust in his eyes.

He would have peed in his pants if he noticed her eyes, which measured him up and down. Her eyes hardened as her hands clutched forcefully on the fence.

When he feasted on the showy blonde, who threw a wink before vanishing from his sight, he knew he wanted to have her.

He almost forgot that he had just asked the black-haired woman standing near him solemnly, silently assessing, to be his girlfriend.

He then turned back at Alexandria, the writer woman. She was good-looking too, but not as sexy as the blonde. Anyways, he had already asked her to be her girlfriend.

Girls like her were silent and compatible; they wouldn’t fight, they wouldn’t protest. They would heed to his every need and would silently walk away when they found out his deception, or anything.

“So, do you want to be my girlfriend?” His voice was no longer nervous.

“Yes, I’d love to!” Her grin was wide.

And when he turned away with a satisfied grin, Alexandria’s grin turned malicious.

‘I’d love to rid the world of you and it’ll be another epic fall.’

Poor him, he didn’t hear her vow.

__END__

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