|Envy (gre3n_eyed) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2013-09-21 11:35:00
|Current music:||"Who Am I Living For" by Katy Perry|
Who: Envy [Narrative]
What: Reflection through a serial killer's eyes
When: Saturday night
Where: Abandoned Pilgrim State Hospital
Warnings: Sin's always need a warning label, violence
The lights outside were dim in the dreary fog that surrounded the estate this place sat on. He looked out to the dead lawn. It was as empty as winding walls of the ward. Even more empty was his girls nest that had been disrupted when Lilith showed taking all he had. There was one though that he'd kept, the lone Bangkok girl whom he'd dragged into one an empty room with a strap in chair. She like many of the others clawed at him when the drugs started to wear off. She struggled as he threw her down in the chair. "Shuusshhh," he said putting his finger up to his mouth but she scratched at his arm with what little nails she had left.
When he flashed the knife from his back pocket she hiccuped on her own tears and tried to run, but he wouldn't let her go out of that chair as he started bolt her in place with the seat belt. "I'm not going to kill you..." he said with a snort. She was the last one for right now and he was saving her. She could be useful. At least until he started to build the nest up again. The cliental in this business were needy fucks. He leaned the chair back, tightening the belt until she was barely breathing and squatted down beside. Envy took her hand, using his blood from her scratches as paint to coat her finger. She screamed inwardly. There was still the stench of blood that was not his in the room. Some fresh, some not. This room was the playground, as they called it. Some came in here and never came out. He liked this room the best and often sat in that chair himself as if it were a throne. He took her finger, pressing it against a block of wood, so that it drug spinters into her skin when he raked it down the front panel. When he ran out of 'paint', he cut his arm again, but this time used her skin as his canvas. He stripped her down of her shirt, watching the long, shivered breaths she took. The way her stomach rose and fell. The heartbeat he felt against his fingerpad as he pressed it into her skin. Being alone wasn't new to Envy, he had made a lifestyle out of drowning in his loneliness and misery. Seeing this girl struggle in her mind with what could happen was his entertainment. She wanted to go home. This one wasn't good enough. She wanted her mother, not him. He was foul, disgusting and kept her prisoner.
As she looked at him with water-filled eyes, he used his hand to cover them. He couldn't stand when they looked at him while he painted. It disjointed him. Screams and desperate pleas did nothing to sink into his inner 'human'. But when they watched him, that was disturbing.