2nd Place Story: Your Personal Homicide

This is your personal homicide. I have dreamed of this moment for years. I have worked out every detail, every possible kink. I have made sure you would taste my poison. Never have I spent so long on my victim. Usually, I just make it quick, although I never get enough enjoyment, never. But, you, my friend, I enjoy. You put a spring in my step and warmth in my heart. It gives me great pleasure just to watch you, knowing that you will die only by my hands.

You make it worthwhile for me to stay up all night, just to see you sleep, to see you lying there so still, so quiet, yet not dead. It mocks me. It teases me and incites my very existence. You threaten my being. You taunt me as you slowly breathe in and out as if nothing is wrong. Don’t worry, I will fix that.

I will just let my hands creep around your throat. Your neck so exposed, vulnerable, you are just begging me to strangle you. You are my precious plaything. I will not make you wait much longer; soon I will fulfill your silent pleas. Don’t worry, my caressing fingers will slip around your throat and slowly start to squeeze. When your face writhes in pain and your legs kick uselessly, your soft white flesh will begin to turn a brilliant red before it starts to become a pleasing purple. As your last breath is expelled from its eternal prison in a pitiful strangling gasp, my strong hands will control your weak mortal flesh…

But no, I must wait; you are my precious toy, and are too young to be broken. You must play some more for me. You never appreciate that I follow in your footsteps as you walk home at night. You never hear my footsteps, nor see my shadow looming over you. You ignore my steps that falling in time with yours. You do not discern my excited breath on your neck. It is all your fault. You never pay attention to me, you never notice me at all. You are my joy, yet you never see me. But, I can fix that, and soon I will. But, no, I must wait. The waiting is always the hardest part.

How I long to batter your brains and splinter your skull and demolish your bones. I yearn to watch you bleed out every last ounce of your life’s blood. The restless impatience brewing inside of me is begging to be freed. How can I deny it much longer? Do not worry, my pet, I promise to put you out of your misery soon. I promise to make sure that your heart will slowly stop beating. No more will it bother you by restlessly stirring and pounding inside of you.

Do not worry; I will kill you. You will die by me, and no one else. I will not let anything else take you from me. You will be safe. You will not ever have to worry about another’s poison as you sit at the dinner table smiling with your family. You will not have to worry about sickness’ painful grip. You will not ever need to worry about old age slowing claiming you as your loved ones watch you slip away. I would never allow some horrible accident to befall you; no careless driver will ever steal you from me. You can rely on me and trust me. I will never fail you.

I dream of your death every moment. I know it must be perfect. I imagine that my bullet passes through your heart, my noose wraps around your neck, or that I push your head underwater until your soul is free to join with me for all eternity. Yet, none of those things is good enough for you. It must be perfect for us to become one. You see, you just cannot keep living like this. It kills me. You must die. Everything you do brings me pain. You torture me. You break my heart, freeze my blood, and wither my soul. You are the one who haunts me. You are making my urges are grow stronger, with your incessant silent demands.  Can’t you see how you are tearing us to shreds?  I will be so sad to see you go, but I have held on to you for far too long, it is time. I must kill you now.

Hurry now! You must turn around and face me. You have won, but I need to see the joy in your eyes as I finally allow your soul to merge with mine and we become one.