I sat there quietly listening to him screaming from the other room.
He’d been wailing off and on for hours but I was tired and didn’t want to deal with him at the moment.
I sat up as the sounds softened to a low sob and rose off the sofa, slowly walking into the bedroom and stared at him with no emotion whatsoever.
I felt dead inside. Seeing him there, tied to the bed, covered in blood, a pickaxe burried in his right knee…there was no pity or emotion. I bore many scars…some on top of each other from his years of relentless torment. He had killed everything in me therefore his suffering meant nothing to me at all. His eyes widened as he saw me and he began screaming again, calling me every foul name he could think of but it had no affect. I sighed as I picked up a large meat cleaver and as I raised it slowly over his right calf he began to cry. I looked at him as he quietly whispered “Please…please Katie”.
“Please? How many times did I say that to you and you never stopped?” and my eyes glazed over as the blade fell.
The Queen of Hell
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