Into the Dark

by Dana Isaly

You cling onto people like a lifeline when you feel like they might have the slightest interest in you, whether that be for friendship or for more.

“I want someone’s full and unyielding attention. I want someone to look at me and only me. That way I know that person will never leave me.” “That’s not love, Lyra. That’s an obsession. Love is forgiving and always evolving. There’s room to grow and change where there’s love. But with obsession, it can only go one way. Obsession will consume you in a way that you can’t come back from.” “Then I want obsession.”

“Your obsessive personality makes you blind to anything but what’s in front of you, Lyra. You grasp onto that one person like they’re your beginning and your end. Like they’re the answer to everything you could ever ask of them.”

Just as a disclaimer, I rarely think people are attracted to me until they give me attention. If someone is staring at me, I assume it’s just because I’m fat or because I’ve got my resting bitch face on—anything other than that they’re actually interested in me as a person. But once they show interest in me, I latch on and open up. I have this houseplant at home. I’m not sure what it is, but it just sits in front of my window. And after about a week of not watering it, it will start to wilt. But once I give it just a small amount of water, it perks up within minutes. That’s what I feel like. I feel like a neglected houseplant that just needs some fucking water.”

You feel like if this one person isn’t the end all be all, that you will never find someone else.” “Exactly. So I obsess over them. I lock in on them. I think about them all day and all night. I check my phone every five minutes to see if I’ve missed a text. I stalk their social media profiles to see if they’re talking to anyone else and ignoring me. I obsess over every little detail. I worry about texting them more than once because then they’ll know I’m obsessed and I could scare them away. But at the same time, I am so completely consumed by desperation, I can barely breathe.”

“I just need to find someone that will obsess over me the way I obsess over them.” “Do you think that’s really what’s healthy, though, Lyra? Is obsession healthier than love?” I look over at her and muster a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “That’s all I have to offer.”

“It’s just a defense mechanism, No Name,” she says, using her little nickname for me she seems to like. “Say something bad about yourself before anyone else has the chance. Control the narrative.”

“Black holes consume everything in their path, and all I’ve ever wanted was to be consumed in a way I had no hope of escaping.”

And I don’t need your feelings. I need you to devour and dominate me. I need to be a part of your every waking thought. I need you to want me, not love me. Love can be broken. Love can fade. Love ends in cheating and divorces and trauma.”

She isn’t getting enough air to properly speak, and I’m too far gone in my own pleasure to give a shit what she’s doing or saying. Her cunt is a vice grip on my dick as she comes all over it, her face beginning to turn blue, her eyes glazing over, and her eyelids falling shut. As her body begins to go slack, I lose control and pump my hips as fast and hard as I can from this angle, holding on to her neck for leverage the entire time. Her arms fall to her sides, and her eyes roll to the back of her head as she fully passes out. Her pussy still pulses around me in the aftershocks of her orgasm as my own explodes through my body. I growl and shout her name, releasing her throat and slapping her hard against her cheek as lightning courses through me. She comes back with a gasp as the last of my seed spills into her, marking her and branding her as mine. My cock twitches inside of her, and she moans. There are already bruises forming along her throat in the shape of my hands, and fuck she looks gorgeous like this.

“You’re telling me that this all-consuming need you have for someone’s full attention and…” He drifts off while he glances down at his stack of notes from Sarah. “Obsession. The need for someone else’s obsession doesn’t cause you harm? What about all the heartbreak you’ve experienced? All of the anxiety and depression? The constant fear you live in that you will never get that kind of love? What about that? Is that not a form of self-harm?” “You guys never get it,” I say sadly. Because they don’t. No one ever fucking gets it.

“Jealous of what exactly?” I ask, digging the tip into her nipple just enough to make her wince and a little trickle of blood to sprout from the sensitive nub. “I don’t like the idea of your hands on another woman.” Her admission ends on a little whimper as I close my mouth around her bleeding nipple and suck. The sweet taste of her blood rolls over my tongue, and I suck even harder, biting on the cut to force more out of her.

I want her hands bound in case she decides to change her mind. Because even if she does, I need this too much to let her.

She remembers the stench and the blood. We cleaned it up after disposing of the body, but the blood and urine still sit inside that mattress, where she’s about to lay her pretty head.

She looks fucking terrified, but we know her cunt is hot and wet. Our baby girl gets off on fear and humiliation. She gets off on pleasing us any way she can.

Situating ourselves between her open legs, we run the blade through the crack of her ass, in-between the delicate lips of her pussy, and over her sensitive clit. Her body jerks, causing the tip of the knife to nick her. A droplet of blood rolls from her clit, and before we can stop ourselves, we lean down and lick and suck her into our mouth. She moans and tries to move her cunt against our lips.

His cock is red with my blood and dripping with my cum.

His hot seed sprays across my bloodied belly, across my tits, and I open my mouth, hoping some will find its way there. He leans further up, still stroking his overstimulated cock, until the last of it is milked onto my tongue. I swallow eagerly and lick my lips before he crawls up my body and straddles my face. His knees go on either side of my face, and his hands grip the back of my head, lifting me and shoving his cock into my throat. I gag and cough against him. He twitches inside my mouth.

I did that. I pleased his demon. He doesn’t need some random bitch off the street. He can use and abuse me when he needs release. No one else will ever see this side of him. He is mine.

For everything I take from her, I will try my hardest to give her a piece of myself in return.

For all his trauma, his mental illness, and his lack of emotions, I accept him. I give him all of me in spite of everything that society deems is wrong with him.

He’s been telling me to kill you since I met you. He was the one that made me follow you that night. I swear my feet started moving to follow you without my permission. “At the same time,” I continue, “he’s always insisting I call you ours instead of mine. Like he wants to keep you just as badly as I do. I think we’re both intoxicated by you.”

I run my hand over her wet hair and hold her like I think you would a small child, rocking and shushing her as we sit down on the couch. She won’t let go, and I wouldn’t let her if she tried. I need to soak up as much of her as I possibly can while I’m still around to do so.

There’s nowhere safer for me than the arms of my serial killer.

If I’m completely honest with myself, I hope she falls apart. I hope she is so completely obsessed with me that she can’t see past me to move on to anything or anyone else. But at the same time, the thought of her coming with me makes my stomach turn. I’m in limbo with my feelings. The monstrous part of me wants her to suffer with us, and the sociopath wants her to suffer without us.

Lyra made me feel safe every time I had a flashback. She held me as I came back thrashing from a nightmare. This woman slept on a couch every night for weeks just to make sure I wouldn’t wake up terrified. She gave up her own comfort to provide it for me. Her moans as she comes will follow me wherever I go. I’ll desperately miss the salt of her sweat, the tang of her blood, and the musk of her cum. She changed sex for me from something to fear to something to relish in. The way her body can move is magical and intoxicating. And that thing she does with her mouth…