Her fingers dip into the flesh, his screams intensifying. Nothing can stop the way a surge of excitement rushes through her, or the way her heart begins to race in anticipation. Lips peel back into a wide, cold grin, the features of his face growing red. His eyes bludge as his hands scratching desperately at her wrist. He was dying. His throat crushed in the palm of her hand, his lungs unable to replenish the life saving air. And it excited her. "Ah! Dead so quickly," she winces, lips pouting. "The fun was only about to start." Squeezing her fingers a little bit tighter, nails dig into flesh. "Ruining my fun."
Grinning he stills in her hands. His body going limp as his heart finally gives in. Eyes lifeless, filled with desperation, stare into her soul. Maybe she should feel remorse, guilt. But she didn't. She felt a rush of power, a rush of bliss as she releases him, his body crumbling to the ground ungracefully.
A breathless laugh escapes her lip, excitement and pleasure causing the fine hairs on her arms to rise. It was truly euphoric, the feeling of taking a life. Nothing else in life seemed to match the feeling of watching as your victim struggled. Of knowing the exact moment that they give up. Biting her lower lips she takes one last, long, lingering look at the corpse at her feet. He had only been young but he had been a fighter, right up until the last beat of his pitiful heart.
But like everyone else who had fallen victim to her hands, he had lost the battle.
"I'm home!" She calls, kicking off her shoes she tosses her jacket in the corner. No one answers, they never do. Pulling a key out from her shirt she walks over to the door that leads to the basement. Unlocking it she quickly enters, the door shutting with a small click. "Mum! There you are," she smiles. Her mother does not. She never did. "Why the long face, Ma?" She asks, kicking her feet up as she takes a seat on the dirty sofa. "You look so miserable-" "Let me go." Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, her eyes glued to the ground. Mauve's brows knitting into a frown as she straightens up in her chair, turning so that her body faced the frail figure of her mother. "Let you go?" She asked, "Why would I do that?" Face void of any emotion her head tips to the side slightly. "Don't you love me? Our home?" She climbs to her feet, walking over to the corner of the room. A figure stood in the corner, one might think of it as a mannequin, if only the features of its face weren't so life like. "Beth might get mad, if you say things like that." Biting her lip she runs a gentle hand through the dirty blonde hair of her sister.
Then she bursts out into laughter, head tilted back as her body shook with the sound. "I joke," she says around cackles. "Beth is dead,"dead things don't get mad. Mauve had killed her herself. She would never forget the sounds of her cries, the desperate pleas of her mothers as Beth took her last breath. The way her blood surged through her with excitement. It was a thrill like no other. "I did a good job though, didn't I?" She asks her mother, admiring how Beth's skin had not aged one day. No signs of decay. "After all, I learnt from the best." Beth had to be her best project so far. Her stitching was perfect, and if Mauve looked at her at just the right angle she could almost re-create the events of the night she took her life. The fear that shone brightly in her green eyes captured perfectly.
Her mother doesn't move, a whimper escaping her chapped lips as eyes focused solely on the earth. Mauve's humour dries up real quick. Ma used to always compliment Beth's work. "Perfect stitching, darling!" "That pose if perfect! Clients will pay big dollars for that!" "Beth that's perfect! Just like the picture. The owner are going to love it forever." Beth. Beth. Beth. "It's a good job, isn't it, Mother." Not a question.
Prowling closer her grabs her mother by the wrist, yanking her closer to the perfect preserved image of her sister. "Look at her. Your perfect daughter." Fingers grip her chin, forcing her mother to look at Beth and all her preserved perfection. "Perfect, yes?"
Tears roll down her cheeks, lips trembling. "Yes, my darling, absolutely perfect."
Her tension evaporates, her lips pulling back into an icy smile. "Thanks Ma, wasn't so hard, was it?" releasing her she moves to climb the stairs, unlocking the door before tossing a glance over she shoulder. Her mother was crumpled on the ground, body shaking as sobs racked through her.
Mauve was hungry. "I'll bring you some dinner later."