Post by livelifelow on Jun 16, 2008 15:42:54 GMT -5
I wouldn't advise reading this if you are sqeamish. This was well-recieved on another site, so I thought I'd allow you guys to read it. It has been edited from the original to fit the Thoroughbred series, so I'm very sorry for any mistakes, please feel free to point them out.
Sane As I
“Wait,” I said to no one in particular. The light had turned on in the room I knew to be the bathroom. I crouched down near the bushes under the window and waited for the light to turn off. It did moments later and I heard the person return to their room through a door I knew connected to the bathroom. Good, I thought, it’s just one of her parents.
I continued circling the house after a few minutes until I came to the side door. I climbed the stairs and pulled the first door open. I gently pushed on the second door and eased it open, feeling it stick gently as I had anticipated. As long as I had known her they had never locked this door and I was glad that they hadn’t started. I stepped inside and closed the outer door, cringing as it creaked, and closed the inner door just enough that it wouldn’t grow too cold and awaken anyone.
I walked over to the stairs and silently crept up them, glad of their carpeting. I stepped across the landing and gently pushed open her door. I knew the room well having spent much time here. Things had been moved around since my last visit, but she had drawn me a diagram when she was last at my house. This proved to be very useful in my planning. I glanced around, noting that Karen was deeply sleeping on the bed.
When I had begun watching the house several hours ago I had come upon the first flaw in my plan. Her and her family had returned from somewhere with one of our friends, Karen. I had been thinking about this slight dilemma for a while and decided not to worry about her as long as she didn’t wake up. The one advantage to Karen being here was that her door would definitely be unlocked.
I stepped carefully inside and felt her sleeping bag in front of my feet. She always slept on the floor when she had a guest. I knelt down next to her, gently placing a hand over her mouth, and touched her cheek to wake her up. Her eyes opened and she put her hands up to rub the sleep from them. She bumped my arm and I saw her eyes widen as she realized that I was there. As she became more alert she tried to brush away my hand. I shook my head and bent down closer to her.
“Come with me,” I whispered softly. She shook her head. “Please, I want to show you something,” I lied. She tilted her head towards the slim blonde on the bed and raised an eyebrow. “No,” I whispered, “Just you.”
She blinked and nodded her head slightly, letting me know that she understood. I cupped her elbow with my hand and she wiggled herself out of her sleeping bag. She stood up with me and slid on some shoes. I was pleased to see that she was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants; I didn’t want her to get sick. We both walked out onto the landing and glanced back to make sure that Karen was still sleeping before closing the door softly.
“Sammy?” A small voice asked, causing us both to jump.
She looked to me and I nodded. “What’s the matter Cindy?” She asked.
“Where you going?” Cindy asked.
“Go back to sleep, I’m just getting a quick drink.” She lied.
“Love you,” Cindy said.
“Love you too,” She said.
She looked at me and nodded. I nodded too and we walked silently down the stairs. I saw her consider raising the alarm, but I shook my head gently and whispered, “Do it and I’ll kill them all.” She swallowed and nodded. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she thought about what I might do to her family and Karen if we were too loud. “We should wait so Cindy doesn’t hear us,” She whispered, causing me to jump as I touched the door. I nodded, it was a good idea.
We stood there a few minutes listening before I took her arm and opened the door. We stepped out into the brisk night, closed the doors and walked down the steps. I kept a grip on her arm as we crossed her lawn into the trees. She didn’t try to escape as I let go of her after a few minutes. We both knew that I could catch her if she ran and I was grateful that she didn’t try.
“So, what are you showing me?” She asked curiously, still whispering.
I shook my head and whispered back, “We’re almost there.”
Soon we came upon a small shack that you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t already know it was there. She saw it and faltered slightly, so I grabbed her arm again and pushed open the door. She cringed when it squeaked, but it didn’t bother me. I had scouted the area well and knew that no one was near enough to hear it. We walked in and I shut the door, locking it with a chain. I saw fear flash across her face and felt her tense up when I released her to light a match and began lighting the candles in our wooden shack. I don’t know whether she was afraid of burning alive or of me cutting off her only escape.
“Won’t people see…?” She trailed off as she realized that there were no windows for people to see the light.
I led her over to a wide, flat wooden post on the wall and picked up some rope off the floor. I leaned against her, holding her to the pole as I tied first her right then left leg to the pole, then repeated it with her arms. She didn’t struggle; she knew that she couldn’t get away and that giving me trouble could endanger her loved ones. I walked to a corner and got the silver bucket and knife that I had thoroughly cleaned and left there before going to watch her house. She considered the bucket thoughtfully, but shrugged it off as I knelt by her left leg and rolled up her sweatpants to just above her knee, kissing it gently. I set the bucket on the floor against her leg and saw her get goose bumps. I rubbed her leg gently to warm it back up.
I cut from her knee to just above the bucket, just to the inside of her shin and heard her high pitched scream. I watched as her blood ran down her leg and into the bucket clinking lightly as it dripped. After a few minutes her bleeding slowed to a stop and I looked into the bucket. Her blood was a few inches above the bottom, but I wanted more. I repeated the process with her right leg, not looking up at her face: I knew I couldn’t stand to see her in pain. Soon that leg stopped bleeding as well and I decided that I had enough blood for now. I rose, swirling the blood around so that it wouldn’t coagulate.
I saw the tears running down her face and the fear in her eyes, which immediately made me feel guilty, but I shook the feeling off: I had a job to do. She whimpered as she saw her blood in the bucket. I set the bucket back on the floor in front of her and cupped my hands in it. I picked up what I could and drizzled it into her hair, admiring the effect it had with the dark red liquid oozing through her thick red curls and down to her mouth.
“What is it?” She asked, snapping me back to reality.
“Nothing, you just look so beautiful,” I told her.
I pulled over the wooden stool that I had found earlier this week. I set the bucket on it and rolled up her left sleeve before placing her arm into the bucket. I untied this arm for better blood flow and she slumped forward slightly. I rubbed from her elbow to her wrist until her arm grew pink and I cut. She arched her back as she screamed, hitting her head on the post. I was alarmed to see blood on the post, but then realized that it was the blood I had put on her head. The rapid drip-drop of liquid falling into liquid brought my focus back to her arm. A few minutes later she stopped bleeding and I was satisfied with the amount of blood in my bucket. I resecured her arm and moved the stool away before looking at her face again.
She was sweating and breathing hard, her head hanging slightly. She looked up at me as I moved closer to her with the sliver bucket held out in my hands almost as though it was some kind of offering. She looked into the bucket and I saw several emotions on her face; anger, fear, amazement, sorrow, and anticipation. She looked up at me from the bucket and nodded, letting me know that she was ready.
I raised the bucket over her head and slowly poured the blood onto her head, allowing it to run through her curls down onto her face. She opened her mouth and moaned, tasting her own blood, which I knew she loved. When the bucket was empty I set it down, admiring the effect of the blood on her face with the candles’ flickering light. I pressed myself against her and began gently sucking the blood off the right side of her neck, slowly working my way up to her jaw and her cheek, savoring the mixture of the saltiness from her sweat and tears and the slightly metallic taste of her blood.
“Ash, you’re crazy,” She whispered as though afraid someone would overhear us.
I sighed, shook my head slightly, and continued working. She wouldn't understand even if I told her.
“I’m close,” She whispered.
I kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting the blood that was slowly coagulating in her mouth and her minty toothpaste. She sighed into my mouth and I pulled away, noting her pallor as I did so. I gently sucked the other side of her neck and felt how her pulse had slowed. I looked into her deep green eyes and saw the life fade out of them to be replaced by a hard, glassy stare. After a moment I closed her eyes and she looked like she was sleeping. I sighed; my job here was almost done.
I sucked the blood off her face and neck, and then licked her legs and arm clean before rolling down her pant legs and sleeve. I untied her and lifted her, carrying her to the door. I was surprised by how light she was, having heard that people were heavier when dead, then realized that it was due to the blood she had lost. I undid the chain on the door, pushed it open, and carried her out to the middle of a field no too far away where I had dug a grave for her this morning.
I laid her out in her grave, kissing her forehead lightly before rising and getting the shovel I had left by the trees after digging the grave. I shoveled the dirt onto her, burying first her feet, then moving up her body towards her head. I glanced at her face one last time before shoveling dirt onto it. I filled the grave and laid the turf I had pulled up in chunks back onto the top, patting it in to match the grass alongside it. I walked away and turned back once to make sure that I couldn’t tell where she was buried. I couldn’t and was glad; I didn’t want to find her. I wanted, needed, to forget her.
Carrying my shovel back to the shack I considered what she had said. I had killed her just to forget her and the pain she had caused, but I hadn’t done it fast or without thought. A lot of thought had actually been put into her killing, not that she knew. Am I crazy? I thought to myself. I froze when a voice that was strange, yet vaguely familiar, spoke to me despite it being very early morning and I being unable to see anyone.
“You’re just as sane as I.”
Sane As I
“Wait,” I said to no one in particular. The light had turned on in the room I knew to be the bathroom. I crouched down near the bushes under the window and waited for the light to turn off. It did moments later and I heard the person return to their room through a door I knew connected to the bathroom. Good, I thought, it’s just one of her parents.
I continued circling the house after a few minutes until I came to the side door. I climbed the stairs and pulled the first door open. I gently pushed on the second door and eased it open, feeling it stick gently as I had anticipated. As long as I had known her they had never locked this door and I was glad that they hadn’t started. I stepped inside and closed the outer door, cringing as it creaked, and closed the inner door just enough that it wouldn’t grow too cold and awaken anyone.
I walked over to the stairs and silently crept up them, glad of their carpeting. I stepped across the landing and gently pushed open her door. I knew the room well having spent much time here. Things had been moved around since my last visit, but she had drawn me a diagram when she was last at my house. This proved to be very useful in my planning. I glanced around, noting that Karen was deeply sleeping on the bed.
When I had begun watching the house several hours ago I had come upon the first flaw in my plan. Her and her family had returned from somewhere with one of our friends, Karen. I had been thinking about this slight dilemma for a while and decided not to worry about her as long as she didn’t wake up. The one advantage to Karen being here was that her door would definitely be unlocked.
I stepped carefully inside and felt her sleeping bag in front of my feet. She always slept on the floor when she had a guest. I knelt down next to her, gently placing a hand over her mouth, and touched her cheek to wake her up. Her eyes opened and she put her hands up to rub the sleep from them. She bumped my arm and I saw her eyes widen as she realized that I was there. As she became more alert she tried to brush away my hand. I shook my head and bent down closer to her.
“Come with me,” I whispered softly. She shook her head. “Please, I want to show you something,” I lied. She tilted her head towards the slim blonde on the bed and raised an eyebrow. “No,” I whispered, “Just you.”
She blinked and nodded her head slightly, letting me know that she understood. I cupped her elbow with my hand and she wiggled herself out of her sleeping bag. She stood up with me and slid on some shoes. I was pleased to see that she was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants; I didn’t want her to get sick. We both walked out onto the landing and glanced back to make sure that Karen was still sleeping before closing the door softly.
“Sammy?” A small voice asked, causing us both to jump.
She looked to me and I nodded. “What’s the matter Cindy?” She asked.
“Where you going?” Cindy asked.
“Go back to sleep, I’m just getting a quick drink.” She lied.
“Love you,” Cindy said.
“Love you too,” She said.
She looked at me and nodded. I nodded too and we walked silently down the stairs. I saw her consider raising the alarm, but I shook my head gently and whispered, “Do it and I’ll kill them all.” She swallowed and nodded. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she thought about what I might do to her family and Karen if we were too loud. “We should wait so Cindy doesn’t hear us,” She whispered, causing me to jump as I touched the door. I nodded, it was a good idea.
We stood there a few minutes listening before I took her arm and opened the door. We stepped out into the brisk night, closed the doors and walked down the steps. I kept a grip on her arm as we crossed her lawn into the trees. She didn’t try to escape as I let go of her after a few minutes. We both knew that I could catch her if she ran and I was grateful that she didn’t try.
“So, what are you showing me?” She asked curiously, still whispering.
I shook my head and whispered back, “We’re almost there.”
Soon we came upon a small shack that you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t already know it was there. She saw it and faltered slightly, so I grabbed her arm again and pushed open the door. She cringed when it squeaked, but it didn’t bother me. I had scouted the area well and knew that no one was near enough to hear it. We walked in and I shut the door, locking it with a chain. I saw fear flash across her face and felt her tense up when I released her to light a match and began lighting the candles in our wooden shack. I don’t know whether she was afraid of burning alive or of me cutting off her only escape.
“Won’t people see…?” She trailed off as she realized that there were no windows for people to see the light.
I led her over to a wide, flat wooden post on the wall and picked up some rope off the floor. I leaned against her, holding her to the pole as I tied first her right then left leg to the pole, then repeated it with her arms. She didn’t struggle; she knew that she couldn’t get away and that giving me trouble could endanger her loved ones. I walked to a corner and got the silver bucket and knife that I had thoroughly cleaned and left there before going to watch her house. She considered the bucket thoughtfully, but shrugged it off as I knelt by her left leg and rolled up her sweatpants to just above her knee, kissing it gently. I set the bucket on the floor against her leg and saw her get goose bumps. I rubbed her leg gently to warm it back up.
I cut from her knee to just above the bucket, just to the inside of her shin and heard her high pitched scream. I watched as her blood ran down her leg and into the bucket clinking lightly as it dripped. After a few minutes her bleeding slowed to a stop and I looked into the bucket. Her blood was a few inches above the bottom, but I wanted more. I repeated the process with her right leg, not looking up at her face: I knew I couldn’t stand to see her in pain. Soon that leg stopped bleeding as well and I decided that I had enough blood for now. I rose, swirling the blood around so that it wouldn’t coagulate.
I saw the tears running down her face and the fear in her eyes, which immediately made me feel guilty, but I shook the feeling off: I had a job to do. She whimpered as she saw her blood in the bucket. I set the bucket back on the floor in front of her and cupped my hands in it. I picked up what I could and drizzled it into her hair, admiring the effect it had with the dark red liquid oozing through her thick red curls and down to her mouth.
“What is it?” She asked, snapping me back to reality.
“Nothing, you just look so beautiful,” I told her.
I pulled over the wooden stool that I had found earlier this week. I set the bucket on it and rolled up her left sleeve before placing her arm into the bucket. I untied this arm for better blood flow and she slumped forward slightly. I rubbed from her elbow to her wrist until her arm grew pink and I cut. She arched her back as she screamed, hitting her head on the post. I was alarmed to see blood on the post, but then realized that it was the blood I had put on her head. The rapid drip-drop of liquid falling into liquid brought my focus back to her arm. A few minutes later she stopped bleeding and I was satisfied with the amount of blood in my bucket. I resecured her arm and moved the stool away before looking at her face again.
She was sweating and breathing hard, her head hanging slightly. She looked up at me as I moved closer to her with the sliver bucket held out in my hands almost as though it was some kind of offering. She looked into the bucket and I saw several emotions on her face; anger, fear, amazement, sorrow, and anticipation. She looked up at me from the bucket and nodded, letting me know that she was ready.
I raised the bucket over her head and slowly poured the blood onto her head, allowing it to run through her curls down onto her face. She opened her mouth and moaned, tasting her own blood, which I knew she loved. When the bucket was empty I set it down, admiring the effect of the blood on her face with the candles’ flickering light. I pressed myself against her and began gently sucking the blood off the right side of her neck, slowly working my way up to her jaw and her cheek, savoring the mixture of the saltiness from her sweat and tears and the slightly metallic taste of her blood.
“Ash, you’re crazy,” She whispered as though afraid someone would overhear us.
I sighed, shook my head slightly, and continued working. She wouldn't understand even if I told her.
“I’m close,” She whispered.
I kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting the blood that was slowly coagulating in her mouth and her minty toothpaste. She sighed into my mouth and I pulled away, noting her pallor as I did so. I gently sucked the other side of her neck and felt how her pulse had slowed. I looked into her deep green eyes and saw the life fade out of them to be replaced by a hard, glassy stare. After a moment I closed her eyes and she looked like she was sleeping. I sighed; my job here was almost done.
I sucked the blood off her face and neck, and then licked her legs and arm clean before rolling down her pant legs and sleeve. I untied her and lifted her, carrying her to the door. I was surprised by how light she was, having heard that people were heavier when dead, then realized that it was due to the blood she had lost. I undid the chain on the door, pushed it open, and carried her out to the middle of a field no too far away where I had dug a grave for her this morning.
I laid her out in her grave, kissing her forehead lightly before rising and getting the shovel I had left by the trees after digging the grave. I shoveled the dirt onto her, burying first her feet, then moving up her body towards her head. I glanced at her face one last time before shoveling dirt onto it. I filled the grave and laid the turf I had pulled up in chunks back onto the top, patting it in to match the grass alongside it. I walked away and turned back once to make sure that I couldn’t tell where she was buried. I couldn’t and was glad; I didn’t want to find her. I wanted, needed, to forget her.
Carrying my shovel back to the shack I considered what she had said. I had killed her just to forget her and the pain she had caused, but I hadn’t done it fast or without thought. A lot of thought had actually been put into her killing, not that she knew. Am I crazy? I thought to myself. I froze when a voice that was strange, yet vaguely familiar, spoke to me despite it being very early morning and I being unable to see anyone.
“You’re just as sane as I.”
