Myers

by Zepphora

I want a man who will stop at nothing to have me. I want a man who’s toxicity knows no bounds. He’d not only die for me. No, that’s too minimal. I

want a man who would kill for me and take the life sentence with a smile on his face.

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.

Ding dong. The witch is dead.

This is what happens to those who look at what belongs to me. You have been warned. -Damien King P.S. Happy Halloween

My pretty little dead girl loved being my little fuck toy.

That’s one thing that has always pissed me the fuck off. Rape. It doesn’t matter who it is against—men, women,

children, rape is rape. I’ve been through it.

There is never a fucking reason to ...

Fucking dumbass. He would’ve had a better chance of escaping if he had run out the front door. It’s a classic horror movie mistake. Sidney Prescott said it best. He has big-breasted bimbo energy.

One day, I’m going to let her read her dark, dirty book while I fuck her tight cunt.

No matter how dark and twisted it is, I want him to want me. I want him to crave me like I’ve always wanted to be desired. I want to be the final girl, the one in horror movies that make it out alive and become an obsession for the killer to finally get. However, in my head, the horror movie ends differently. It ends with him taking me away from this town and being content just having me.

I didn’t think this level of devotion existed. I thought it was only possible in my fantasies, but he’s right here, staring at me like I hung the moon and created the stars.

I’m just as dedicated and obsessed with him as he is with me. It’s not love. It’s better than that. It’s everything.

“Keep begging like the good little slut you are for my dick, pretty girl.”

He releases my lips for a moment to smirk at me. “My pretty little dead girl has some dirty deeds of her own.” I smile up at him. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”