They said I was born from the space between vengeance and nothingness. My wrath wasn’t just hollow—it wasfurious and hungry.
I wear these colour contacts because normal pupils weren’t made for the kind of hell I’ve seen. They glow red because I don’t justwatchevil, Isee from it. I’m the fucking definition of it.
Calmly, I turn, tilting my head as the urge to break in hums inside me, but I don’t rush. There’s no need. With measured steps, I start moving, circling the trailer like a shadow, my boots sinking into the muddy puddles.
She’s in there, heart hammering. I can feel it.
She thinks she’s safe where she is.
She ain’t.
She never fucking will be now I’ve seen her.
I stop outside the window on the other side, and there she is. Standing in the middle of the living room, her back to me, staring at the same window I was just at. Her shoulders rise and fall as she tries to control her breathing. The fear she tried so hard to bury is now clawing its way to the surface.
She’s confused. But don’t worry, my little corpse. So am I. We’re in this confusion together.
I lift my blade, the edge glistening as I bring it to the glass.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She freezes, the tightness in her body coiling like a thread pulled to its breaking point. And then, after a few seconds, she spins, her wide, frantic eyes locking onto mine. The tension between us crackles, snapping us both into this moment, into this sick and perfect symmetry.
Without breaking eye contact, I press the blade to the tip of my finger and slice across it. The pain is a fleeting graze against my skin before I lift my hand, the blood warm as it smears across the rain-streaked glass.
HI.
Her eyes flick over the letters again and again, her mind trying to process it. The rain makes the blood drip, trailing downward like creepy, twisting vines, yet still, she doesn’t react. So, I continue.
With slow, deliberate strokes, I press my bleeding fingertip to the glass once more.
I LICK YOU.
I watch as her expression shift from terror to confusion.
Did I mean Ilikeyou? Did I mean exactly what I wrote? Am I just incapable of fucking spelling? The questions run through her beautiful little mind, I can see it in the way her lips part slightly and the slight furrow of her brow.
Her gaze lifts to mine, and instead of fear, something steadier settles in. Her eyes narrow, just enough for me to notice, before relaxing, then, slowly, she steps closer.
When she’s right in front of the window, she kneels, bringing her face level with mine and with just the glass between us, it drives me fucking crazy. I can almost feel the darkness twisting inside me, snaking through my bloodstream, whispering for me to shatter the fragile fucking barrier between us. To reach through the shards, to touch her, to feel her beneath my hands and make her scream.
She stares into my red eyes and there’s no dread or anger, just a blank, emotionless void. She’s playing with me now. I can’t read her anymore and the realization sends an unexplained thrill through me.
After a moment, she leans in, so close that I can see the way her mouth barely opens before fog of her breath spreads across the cold glass. And then, carefully, she lifts her hand and drags her finger through the condensation.
FUCK YOU.
I feel my lip twitch. A smirk almost there, but it fades as quickly as I felt it.
Oh, my little corpse. You have no idea what you’ve just started.
My eyes darken, a shadow creeping in as my teeth grind together. The audacity and bravery she has but still has no clue who she’s fucking with makes me like this thing between us even more... exciting.
Without warning, I smack the tip of my knife against the glass, and she recoils, her breath hitching.