potusa
02-10-2004, 06:55 PM
and in the other room, I can hear that scraping. two blades slicing together, waiting to cut me apart. I know he’s grinning, he’s a sick son of a bitch.
so as I lay, tied to this bed. my hands, and feet, this gag around my mouth, just waiting, quietly breathing through my nose. he hates any kind of noise, so I don’t even struggle.
he walks across the field of view, from under my blindfold, my vision slightly askew. who knows what drugs he’s pumped into me, who knows what he’s going to do me.
the rope wrapped around my wrists, my hands wrapped around the rope, pulling towards me the corners of this bed. struggling to fight only myself.
and through the strain I hear his steps. down the hall he slowly walks towards, the only thing that can stop him before he starts on me.
a broken television. smashed, cracked across the 21inches. like the spider web hanging in the corner of the ceiling.
he turns to me and sees my half revealed half open eye. taking the pick from his mouth, and flicking it (what seemed to be in slow motion) to the ground. before it hit, he was there beside me.
He moved in blur of rage, he bled into the colors of the room, as his clothes matched his painted wallpaper décor.
he sat beside me, and used his tongue to pick at his gums. taking his fingers to his lips, “chicken.”
and to my eye, the blade came tip to lid, as I squeezed my eyes so tight. I recoiled as far as I could, into the pillow behind my head.
“how’s life?” rotating the knife counter, then clockwise. “half a twist, and half a thrust, and you might not be so blind. Now, since you can’t, I’ll do the talking for a moment. How long has it been? a day, two? you know, I couldn’t care less. its been wonderful having you here.”
the blade of the knife was now flat against my head, as I felt the cold steel and warm blood, sending chills and shudders down my spine. dragging it back, leaving its mark, the blade no longer stained in blood.
“now, I don’t remember ever agreeing that we were going to see other people. especially, because we were still married!” he gave no outburst other than his voice, which was enough. “but I’ve got a way to fix this little defiance of agreement. I’m going to prove to you, our vows will come into affect, and apply only to you.”
he pulls the blindfold back over my already tightly closed eye. as I quickly open them to relax my pain, the darkness was just as dark anyways.
“til’ death do us part, my dear. you will see that I am the last guy you will ever see. hanging, on so close a heart as yours.”
the slight sound of wood creaking.
“how’s life?”
as the chair hits the floor, and the piping jerks with his weight.
and my muffled scream went out, beyond the gag, and out the walls, towards the edge of world and close enough to wake the dead. I wrenched my body , and flailed uncontrollably, scraping the legs of the bed against the floor.
just minutes of screaming silence had passed. the scraping no longer leaving its marks. what followed could only be described, as the most irresistible desire to cry.
they were held back though, those tears that should have drowned her eyes. but below that blindfold they were just held shut even tighter than before, a weakness so strong it looked as though she was going to cry tears of blood.
and that state lasted, for hours, hours of darkness held so tight.
...the police came, and removed her gag. not a word. then untied her arms and legs, and she laid there, not a sound. one of the officers slowly took off her blindfold, and there they were, exposed, only to darkness still. as they squeezed so tight they bled again.
outside her hospital room, the detective asked how long she would stay like this.
“give it a day, or two,” he said. and the detective left.
and that day, or two passed. she hadn’t said a word, and not once opened her eyes. a shell she remained until the detective arrived again.
“I have some pictures for you to look at. now I know this is tough for you but i really need you to help me with this investigation. if you can, could you identify these two men…”
and her already frozen face stiffened to the point of breaking, as she cracked just as sharply as the television, like the spider web concealing.
Her eyes wrenched open, as wide as they have ever been. grabbed the two pictures in her hands, and stared. There hung her hidden life, the man with whom the affair was tied, not by the heart, but around the neck instead. Only her eyes moved to see the rest of the pictures, which were held so close to her view. The man for who she thought was dead was standing by the television set. Staring as blankly as she is now.
“What is it?” as realization set in… and her body began to give in.
Her head slammed back against the bed, and her body flailed uncontrollably. her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her tongue slowly choked her to death.
and as the detective was standing aside, from all the commotion that came. He smiled his smile one last time, and burned the pictures with his flame. He turned to the TV and looked at his reflection, “the life of a detective leaves no room for crimes, and this mirror of truth lets me live inside my rules.”
to him, the television was a way to escape everything he knew reality only offered.
Violence, on either side, it made his life.
"How's life in TV land?"
*The End*
so as I lay, tied to this bed. my hands, and feet, this gag around my mouth, just waiting, quietly breathing through my nose. he hates any kind of noise, so I don’t even struggle.
he walks across the field of view, from under my blindfold, my vision slightly askew. who knows what drugs he’s pumped into me, who knows what he’s going to do me.
the rope wrapped around my wrists, my hands wrapped around the rope, pulling towards me the corners of this bed. struggling to fight only myself.
and through the strain I hear his steps. down the hall he slowly walks towards, the only thing that can stop him before he starts on me.
a broken television. smashed, cracked across the 21inches. like the spider web hanging in the corner of the ceiling.
he turns to me and sees my half revealed half open eye. taking the pick from his mouth, and flicking it (what seemed to be in slow motion) to the ground. before it hit, he was there beside me.
He moved in blur of rage, he bled into the colors of the room, as his clothes matched his painted wallpaper décor.
he sat beside me, and used his tongue to pick at his gums. taking his fingers to his lips, “chicken.”
and to my eye, the blade came tip to lid, as I squeezed my eyes so tight. I recoiled as far as I could, into the pillow behind my head.
“how’s life?” rotating the knife counter, then clockwise. “half a twist, and half a thrust, and you might not be so blind. Now, since you can’t, I’ll do the talking for a moment. How long has it been? a day, two? you know, I couldn’t care less. its been wonderful having you here.”
the blade of the knife was now flat against my head, as I felt the cold steel and warm blood, sending chills and shudders down my spine. dragging it back, leaving its mark, the blade no longer stained in blood.
“now, I don’t remember ever agreeing that we were going to see other people. especially, because we were still married!” he gave no outburst other than his voice, which was enough. “but I’ve got a way to fix this little defiance of agreement. I’m going to prove to you, our vows will come into affect, and apply only to you.”
he pulls the blindfold back over my already tightly closed eye. as I quickly open them to relax my pain, the darkness was just as dark anyways.
“til’ death do us part, my dear. you will see that I am the last guy you will ever see. hanging, on so close a heart as yours.”
the slight sound of wood creaking.
“how’s life?”
as the chair hits the floor, and the piping jerks with his weight.
and my muffled scream went out, beyond the gag, and out the walls, towards the edge of world and close enough to wake the dead. I wrenched my body , and flailed uncontrollably, scraping the legs of the bed against the floor.
just minutes of screaming silence had passed. the scraping no longer leaving its marks. what followed could only be described, as the most irresistible desire to cry.
they were held back though, those tears that should have drowned her eyes. but below that blindfold they were just held shut even tighter than before, a weakness so strong it looked as though she was going to cry tears of blood.
and that state lasted, for hours, hours of darkness held so tight.
...the police came, and removed her gag. not a word. then untied her arms and legs, and she laid there, not a sound. one of the officers slowly took off her blindfold, and there they were, exposed, only to darkness still. as they squeezed so tight they bled again.
outside her hospital room, the detective asked how long she would stay like this.
“give it a day, or two,” he said. and the detective left.
and that day, or two passed. she hadn’t said a word, and not once opened her eyes. a shell she remained until the detective arrived again.
“I have some pictures for you to look at. now I know this is tough for you but i really need you to help me with this investigation. if you can, could you identify these two men…”
and her already frozen face stiffened to the point of breaking, as she cracked just as sharply as the television, like the spider web concealing.
Her eyes wrenched open, as wide as they have ever been. grabbed the two pictures in her hands, and stared. There hung her hidden life, the man with whom the affair was tied, not by the heart, but around the neck instead. Only her eyes moved to see the rest of the pictures, which were held so close to her view. The man for who she thought was dead was standing by the television set. Staring as blankly as she is now.
“What is it?” as realization set in… and her body began to give in.
Her head slammed back against the bed, and her body flailed uncontrollably. her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her tongue slowly choked her to death.
and as the detective was standing aside, from all the commotion that came. He smiled his smile one last time, and burned the pictures with his flame. He turned to the TV and looked at his reflection, “the life of a detective leaves no room for crimes, and this mirror of truth lets me live inside my rules.”
to him, the television was a way to escape everything he knew reality only offered.
Violence, on either side, it made his life.
"How's life in TV land?"
*The End*