MeganMiG:Scissors
From Create Your Own Story
The words "Wicked sharp" just keep echoing in your head. It's funny, as no two words have ever affected you as much as these two have. Your thought process nearly ceases except for those two words. It becomes impossible to think of anything besides those two words, to feel anything but the reverberation of the sound, the way it makes your fingers tremble, the way it makes your mouth dry.
You try to calm your shaking hands. God, why are you so nervous all of a sudden? This is so simple... Your hand closes and tightens around both of the handles, holding the scissors closed. Your mind jumps rapidly from thought to thought and you feel a sick sort of rush, a sick happiness. It makes you anticipate the kill. If the before feels this good, imagine the after...
Meanwhile, Vanessa has her back turned to you and is humming. You attempt to quiet the voices in your head, but it's useless. The cacophony grows and reaches deafening proportions.
"Doitdoitdoitdoitdoitjustfuckingdoitproveyouarenotuselessdoit-"
You begin to shake and shudder, whining loudly. Vanessa turns to face you, confused and worried.
"Megan? Are you okay?"
"Doitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoit"
"Megan? Em, are you-"
Your head snaps to the right to face her. You swing your right hand, along with the scissors, and bury them to the handles in the center of her chest. She gasps and winces, her hands reaching up to yours, trying to pull the scissors away. Using your left hand to smack her and your right to turn her in the chair to face you, you grin. Her expression, a mix of pain, betrayal and confusion, seems amusing. But you can't just leave her like this - no, no, that won't do.
Your solution? Taking a handle in each hand, knuckles touching and adrenaline racing, you forcefully open the scissors. The wound in Vanessa's chest splits open and seems to vomit a new stream of blood, ruining her clothes and causing her to weaken, her head falling backwards and her arms going slack.
Her breath, however, is now shallow - not gone. Surprised, you make one final move. You twist the scissors around in a half circle, and Vanessa gasps. Her eyes tighten shut, and you pull the scissors out. A moment later, you press your fingers to her neck, just below her jaw-line and feel for a pulse. Nothing. You finally did it.
You can't help but hurry home, your own pulse racing in anticipation for what comes next.
