12. Damien

Staring in the mirror, I try like hell to push the memories away, but they won't be silenced. I keep hearing her voice, seeing her unnaturally red hair, and feeling her breath on my face. If there is one moment in my life she should've stayed the fuck out of, it was the first time Trixie and I had sex. I tried pushing it down, ignoring it, but her voice just became louder and louder until I wanted to rip out my own ears to keep from hearing Samantha's voice. She was everywhere and Trixie's perfect, untouched skin became that of my evil stepsister.

I gutted that bitch fourteen years ago so she couldn't ever hurt me or Trixie anymore, but she still manages to do damage. I know I upset Trixie by leaving like I did, but the last thing I want is for her to see me like this or see what I need to do to silence the bitch in my head.

Grabbing the butcher's knife I bought for tonight, I drag it across my chest and focus on the blood spilling and the pain slicing through my flesh.

Pain in the body quiets pain in the mind or something like that.

It's not enough. It only dulls the memories and her voice but I can still hear her whispers.

You're such a good boy, Damien. You take such good care of me, but I need something more. I bet you'd take good care of me in that way, too, wouldn't you?

With zero warning, I lean over the toilet and vomit the Dr. Pepper Trixie bought for me earlier and the soft pretzel we shared.

Just lay back and I'll do all the work…Such a big boy. You're going to love every second of this, Damien.

Another wave of nausea hits me, but instead of puking up stomach acid, I punch myself in the face. Once, twice, three times, until my head throbs for an entirely different reason. Samantha was a sick and twisted waste of space, but at least her voice is gone.

I never wanted anything she did to me and every night after she raped me, I'd puke my guts up. Luckily, that was the only thing Trixie didn't witness. I hope she forgot everything having to do with that pedophile. I don't want her to ever be haunted by the things that keep me up at night. I took everything so she wouldn't have to.

The sound of muffled screams break me out of my state as I stroke my dick through my pants. I don't know how it"s possible that I'm still hard after all that, but that is what Trixie does to me. When she told me she was a virgin, I nearly lost it. She saved herself for me and when I had her virginal cunt wrapped around me, it was so hard not to fuck her into the mattress until we were both completely drenched in her blood.

My cock is still soaked with her. I just hope we don't have a repeat of this next time I'm buried balls deep in her heaven.

Standing to my feet, I rub the vomit from my mouth and grab my mask that I left on the sink before going to the festival. I knew Trixie would be there. I also knew it was a risk to go, but I couldn't pass up the chance to see her and maybe her see me, too. What I didn't expect was for the night to turn out the way it did.

I pull the mask over my head before I make my way over to Samantha's old room where Tiffany awaits me. By now, she's probably realized her friends are dead. They weren't my true target anyway so I gave them an easy way out by draining every last drop of their blood for my paintings.

I want everyone to know I'm back in Chippewa Falls and I want their fear to flow through the streets.

Walking into the room, I pull a box of matches out of my pocket and light the oil lamp to give me some light to work with. Since no one has lived here since I went to prison, the electricity isn't working. I'm mostly using this place to work and sleep, nothing else.

Chunky Monkey follows me into the room and whimpers as she rubs against my leg. Tiffany screams into her gag like she thinks the dog will save her, but she's dead wrong. Luckily for me, everyone is still at the festival or at another party in town so it doesn't matter how loud she is.

I need this to get my head back on straight. I was going to starve Tiffany for another day just to extend her agony for all the years she has tormented Trixie, but I need the bloodshed to level out the trauma I had to relive.

Bending down, I gently pat the dog on the head and she whines with joy at the simple touch before sitting in front of Tiffany like Chunky Monkey thinks Tiffany would give her attention, too. The bitch didn't even give her attention before I snatched her.

Tears flow down Tiffany's face even as I step forward and rip the gag from her mouth. "Betty!" she cries and coughs simultaneously.

I'm guessing that's what she calls Chunky Monkey. Seems too normal for such a pain in the ass.

The dog tilts her head inquisitively before panting. Without warning, Tiffany tries to kick her leg at Chunky Monkey, so I backhand the bitch so hard the chair tilts for a moment before falling back on all four. She sobs in panic. "Please, don't kill me. I won't say anything to anyone. I promise."

I should've figured she would beg for her life. So typical.

I grab the back of her chair and pull it up before turning her around so she can watch me work. A gasp leaves her lips before she lets out a loud scream. I bet the sight before her is shocking.

Her two friends" dead bodies are bound to chairs like hers, but unlike Tiffany, her friends have tubes coming from their arms leading into metal buckets. Their deaths were slow, but they should be glad I didn't make it painful. However, as soon as they passed, I got to work on making them look the same way Tiffany will soon.

The way I carved and falayed the flesh on their faces mimics Trixie's Day of The Dead makeup identically. They were the perfect test subjects for what I'm going to do to Tiffany.

"Is…Is that Mandy and Jess?" Her voice shakes as tears flow down her face.

I hum my answer before I move over to the first body and rip the tube out of her arm before dropping it to the floor. Drops of blood sprinkle the floor, but mostly the flow has stopped. Poor Mandy was such a frightened little creature and now she's dead. Such a pity. She was such a fun little prey. I really enjoyed scaring her.

I grab the bucket of her blood and walk to the wall next to the door and start with my masterpiece. This is my calling card. Sooner or later, people will figure it out. If they don't, they're idiots.

Dipping my fingers into the blood, I write her name on the wall in sporadic sizes, like the flowers on old wallpaper.

"What do you want? Why are you doing this? Mandy and Jess never hurt anybody. I've never hurt anyone," Tiffany whines as I turn to look at her. She seriously thinks she's done nothing to deserve what's coming to her.

I point to the name on the wall and she hesitantly looks at the wall. "I don't understand. I don't know any Trixie!"

I close the door, dip my fingers in the blood, and write my Trixie's legal name on the back of the door.

Aurora Page Sullivan.

The way Tiffany immediately starts to shake lets me know that she is fully aware of what she has done that has led her to this. This isn't vengeance though. Tiffany, Amanda, and Jessica are all gifts for my Trixie. It's a dark and twisted present, but a gift nonetheless. I hope she appreciates all the hard work I put into this.

"Aurora? She's my friend!" she lies through her teeth as I pull off my mask because I want her to see the dark pools of nothingness in my pupils when she tries to spin this however she chooses. It won't work. She stops and her breath catches as I lean down in front of her, petting Chunky Monkey's head with my blood coated fingers. "We've been friends since we were little girls. Sometimes we mess around, but it's all in good fun. Why else would she give me her dog?"

I blink a few times, trying to wrap my head around what she just said. Is she saying that Chunky Monkey belongs to Trixie? I know this bitch isn't friends with Trixie so that leaves only one possibility. Tiffany stole the dog and everyone just let her get away with it. Does Trixie even know that Tiffany had her dog?

The rage that fills me has more twisted ideas forming in my mind of what to do with her. Originally, I was just going to make her look like her friends, but let her feel every second of it. It was going to hurt like hell until I slit her throat, but now I have something way worse in mind for her.

"Please," she begs. "I'll do anything. Just don't kill me." Her eyes sparkle with the frightful tears collecting in them.

A truly evil idea fills my mind as a smirk pulls at my lips. This is going to be fun.

Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I pull out the butcher's knife and she cries harder, tears flowing down her dirt crusted face. "Please, please, please!"

Then, I slice through the rope holding down one arm and her crying ends immediately, shock across her face. I cut through the rope on her other arm and she falls to the floor at my feet, gasping as if I just strangled the living daylights out of her. She tilts her head back and looks up at me.

I've always been enticed by the hope in people's eyes right before it is ripped out of their chest and there's something truly mouthwatering about Tiffany's hope.

"You—you're letting me go?" she asks breathlessly.

I just tilt my head before sliding the knife back in my pocket and I cross my arms over my chest.

She moves to her knees in front of me as if she is praying before her god. Tiffany runs her hands up my pant legs with gratitude in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers and moves to stand up but before she can full get up, I kick her right in the fucking jaw.

She's out before her head hits the floor and I make quick work of preparing her for what I have planned. I strip her of all of her clothes before tying her hands behind her back and working a knot to bind her foot to her knee on the opposite foot. She will be perfectly incapacitated while still being conscious for everything. Once I have all my tools laid out, I trail my fingers up and down her spine to pull her out of her little nap. She starts to softly groan but is still out. So I do the only logical thing any man would do. I reach down and slap her ass as hard as I physically can. The scream she lets out is so deliciously demented that my insides purr with delight.

"What? What's happening?" she cries before looking at me in a panic. "I thought you were going to let me go. Where are my clothes? Please, don't rape me!"

Why is that always the first place everyone goes when you take off their clothes against their will? I'm not going to rape her or anyone for that matter. However, I am going to do some things that investigators will argue are sexually motivated.

Even if I did have something like that planned, Tiffany Clark doesn't do it for me. Only one woman gets me hard enough to bust through drywall and that's my girl, my Trixie.

I still have her virginal blood coating my cock and that is the only reason my length stirs at all.

Not this Sports Illustrated model wannabe.

"Damien," she whimpers before my eyes move back to hers. At least she has the decency to use my name. Anything else would be plain rude. "I'll let you do what you want to me. Just…please, I don't want to die. If you want to fuck me, I'll fuck you and make it feel good."

Doubtful. She is way too bony for my taste.

"Please."

I flip her onto her back and the bitch moans like she thinks I'll actually take her disgusting snatch as an offering. Wrapping my hand around her throat, I press her into the ground before trailing my hand down her collarbone. Tiffany arches her chest into my hand until her barely-there breast is in my hand before moaning.

"Please, Damien. I want you. Touch me."

I want to laugh at her antics. She really thinks she can use her body to get out of this. Well, she has another thing coming.

Stupid whore. The words feel so real in my head I swear I must've spoken them into existence, but she doesn't react and I don't think my lips moved.

Grabbing my knife from beside her, I lift it and dig the tip into the top curve of her breast. She screams as blood coats her chest. She tries to thrash, but it"s useless in the position I have her in. Even if she was untied, she'd be powerless to stop me.

Grabbing dirty tissues, I stuff them between the layers of skin and the satisfying sound of squelching flesh and blood welcomes me with each push.

"Stop! Stop, stop!"

I grab my needle and thread and begin closing up the botched titty job, finding her tits a bit more appealing this way.

She screams for someone to help her as I move onto her other breast and do the same before I add the finishing touches to both breasts. Pressing the blade down into the center of her nipple, it splits in half. I cut the bud into fourths like a tassel made of human flesh. I do the same to her other one.

Now, Tiffany is shaking with pain, her eyes nearly bulging out from the shock to her system.

Delightful.

I move down to her bikini line and dig the blade into her skin, separating the epidermis from her guts below. The blood pours around her body as she tries to fight it, but with her leg pinned under mine, all she can do is make my cuts more jagged than intended. I stuff her abdomen with tissues as much as I can until she looks like she's carrying a six month fetus in her womb. Then, I stitch her up with her pleas and screams as the soundtrack of my depravity.

Flipping onto her face, which is probably the worst pain she's experienced, I straddle the back of her legs and do the same to her flat ass. I slice and stuff, slice and stuff, again and again until it"s no longer clear how her body once looked. She bathes in a pool of her own blood as I turn her back to her previous position on her back and she hisses as sweat and blood mixes across her face.

"Please," she whimpers weakly as her teeth chatter. "Kill me."

How truly fickle is the human body that just a bit of torment is needed to flip the hope for survival to a prayer for death? Tiffany's will power is that of a child. She has no emotional strength at all. Nothing to admire.

If it wasn't that I need her either dead or comatosed for the markings I need to place on her face, I wouldn't give her what she wants. She's just lucky it aligns with my plans.

I turn her back on her face and turn the butcher's knife in my hand, thinking of which way I want to do it until it pops in my head.

She did say she wanted me to fuck her. I guess she'll just have to settle for my blade.

With a clear sight of her cunt, I line up my knife and slice it straight through her, blood gushing around it. The orchestra of cries and protests welcome me as I slice through layers of flesh and reproductive organs all the way back to her anus. I shift the knife further until it hits her tail bone as vagina starts to fall out of her bounded snatch. I rip out the blade and stand up as she hyperventilates in the pile of blood, intestines, and shit pouring from her ass.

I watch her and wait as her breathing slows until her entire body falls still.

Ding dong. The witch is dead.