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Girl of My Dreams

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“Shh, shh.” I gently swipe my gloved thumb through the drool dripping down her bottom lip, under the rope gag I tied earlier. She still has some fight in her, but not for long. I cross my arms and smile when I watch her thrash around in the chair I’ve secured her too. God, she’s so beautiful like this. She’s red cheeked, some of her hair is sticking to her sweaty forehead, and most importantly she’s whimpering. I wonder if she’s as wet as I am. I let a chuckle out at the thought.

I let her squirm about as I walk to the knife block on the counter. I pull out each knife one by one. Pretending to inspect each one. Will I go with the paring knife? What about the chef’s knife? I let the overhead light in the kitchen catch on the knife making it reflect off the blade on to her face. Tilting it just a little to beam off into her eye. I grin as she flinches. I grab both before walking back to her. I gently sit them down next to my small tool kit. I hear her start to sob.

“Baby, don’t cry. It’s gonna be just fine.” I pet her hair and she pulls away instantly. It’s understandable, some people just don’t like being touched when they’re upset. I continue on and let the hurt of a tiny rejection wash over me. I check my knots on the rope, though I know they couldn’t have come undone. I am not trying to risk her getting away from me. I’ve been lusting after her for so long. She’s finally in my arms and nothing will take her from me. Nothing.

I pick my EMT shears out of my toolkit and pluck out a scalpel. I just wanna toy with her a little before the real fun starts. I pocket the capped scalpel as I move around from behind her to straddle her lap. She tries to buck me off but not only do I weigh 10lbs more than her she’s also losing her energy. I kiss her button nose before diving right in to cutting her shirt. I cut from the hem to just under her tits. I don’t want her to feel too exposed. Those others that force women to have sex or do weird sexual things to them are fuckin gross. That’s not my M.O.

With each cut of her shirt she gets squirmier and shakier. She’s so tense it almost tugs on my heartstrings. Like I said. Almost. I put the shears back onto the kitchen table and lean a little to slide the scalpel out of my pocket. She begins to thrust up in the chair to knock me off her again. This time I quickly reach up and pull her head back by her hair.

“Hey, that’s enough! Come on, what happened to my good girl? Can’t you just sit still for me? It’ll all be over soon.” I whisper into her ear. I nuzzle behind her ear and up into her hair. She smells amazing. A bit floral, strawberries, freshly cut grass in the summer, a hint of vanilla, and lastly bitter salt.

I uncap the scalpel as I start to gently kiss her ear and down her neck. I whisper sweet nothings to her before I begin making a few quick and tiny cuts. She at first doesn’t react to them. It takes about 10 seconds for her pain receptors in her brain to catch up. Now she’s got the fighting vigor I love so much. Resting my head on her shoulder I plunge the blade in twice in quick succession. Watching as it goes in a little deeper. I guess I can see what some serial killers get off on, well, killing. A blade going in and out does look pretty sexual.

I stroke my thumb over the cut. Gently sliding it in. She sobs and tries to pull away from it, but she’s imobile. I kiss along her jaw, tasting her tears and eventually her saliva. I pull my thumb out slowly. I think it’s time for the main event. I lift my head up and scoot myself closer to her. I take the blade right under the ribs and POP right through the skin. I use some force to saw the blade down to her belly button. I watch in awe as the blood begins to just flow and flow out of her abdomen.

I flick my gaze away from the blood spilling over us both to her eyes. She’s slipping away from me, slowly. I raise my free hand to her face to stroke her cheek. She’s letting out a low whine. My sweet darling. I’ll give you what you want. Without a second's hesitation, I drop my blade and plunge my fist into her.

She’s so warm. It’s amazing how warm she is. I’d crawl inside of her if I could. I laugh like a giddy child as I move my hand around inside of her. I’m almost overwhelmed by it all. The girl of my dreams in the palm of my hands. What more could I ask for?

I caress each of her organs as I move my hand around inside. I wonder if her insides feel just as soft as her skin. I guess there’s only one real way to find out. I brace one hand on her shoulder and with my currently occupied hand pull out some of her small intestine from the slit. She looks shocked when I pull it up in front of her face, which turns to horror as I rub it across my cheek. God is it soft. I stick my tongue out just the tiniest bit to lick it. Not bad, but clearly an acquired taste. This wouldn't have been the first time I’ve had a girls blood on my face. I smirk at her then place the object of her horror onto my lap. Then dive back in.

“I know what your thinking, love. Why me? Why are you doing this to me?!” I grunt the last part as I bend my elbow reaching up inside of her.

“You know how it is. You meet a beautiful girl and stalk her for a few months. You insinuate yourself into her life slowly. She’s the most amazing girl and you just love her so much that you want to consume her. I think that’s how true love feels.” I notice her breathing has become shallow. She’s almost gone now. I trail my fingers up inside of her till I feel that beautiful pulsing organ. Her heart. I hold it in my hands as the beats become fewer and fewer. Her eyes finally close and she slumps in the chair. She always did look beautiful sleeping.

I tighten my grip on her heart and with a rip it pulled free. I give her a kiss on her lips before standing up letting the pile of organs on my lap fall onto her and the floor. Amazing how much blood there is when you see it all on the kitchen floor. I place her heart in a quart size freezer bag and put it in the tool kit. I replace my things in the correct spots then peel the bloodied gloves off tossing them in there as well. I’ll throw those away on the way back home. I replace them with a fresh new pair.

Let’s hope my posh English impression is still up to par.

I grab the phone off the receiver and dial 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Uh, yes, there’s, there’s guy outside my window. He’s about 6ft. Short hair. He looks white? I’m scared.” I leave the phone off the hook as I hear the operator trying to talk to me. I leave out the front door. I walk to my car with my prize in my purse. I unlock the car and get in placing my bag in the passenger seat. Buckling up, I pull away from her house.

A part of me wants to just sit in the dark in my car and watch as the first policeman pulls up. He’ll search around the house looking for the mystery man. Then he’ll ring the doorbell and knock. There won’t be an answer. He’ll radio dispatch, they’ll radio back saying the line is busy. Will he try to enter the house by himself or call for backup? Maybe he’ll go in alone. Follow the dial tone to the kitchen. He’ll see my baby sleeping. Oh he’ll puke his guts out good. Bless his heart.

The first police car passes I start laughing as I turn on the radio and sing along to Hurdy Gurdy Man as the open windows let in the summer night breeze.