Did I care? No.
He threw his fists at me, like a child half-heartedly trying to punch, and the impact was a dull throb. Nothing more. I wrapped my entire hand around that tiny fist and squeezed it hard, while I watched his face contort in blood-red pain. His arm shook violently, as he tried to desperately yank free from my grip, but I held onto him firmly. Playfully, I slowly twisted his arm around, threatening to snap it off like a twig. Sweat droplets fell from his forehead and he was breathing faster. He tried to kick and punch me with his free hand, but he was evidently fighting the air.
I was loving every moment of this.
"I'm gonna make you my bitch," I hissed at him, pushing him roughly against the tree. Those dirt-brown eyes, which were once sparkling with arrogance and confidence, were now wide in fear. I could almost see the worst case scenarios flashing before his petrified eyes. And I would make it my duty to ensure that it all happened to him.
"L-Let me go, y-you psycho!" He snarled, trying to gather up his confidence in order to intimidate me, even though he was trembling like a leaf on a windy day. Did this little brat think he could scare me? Laughing at his pathetic attempt, I grabbed a long stick that had big, fat thorns decorating it. The thorns were digging into my flesh, making my skin bleed, but I didn't care. I loved the physical pain - that vicious little stinging pain - and I loved watching his expression grow more and more horrified.
"Turn around," I barked at him. Either he complied with my request and it would be easier for us both, or we could always choose the hard way - my favorite. Personally I didn't mind. It was up to him.
"-Help!" He suddenly started yelling when he realized that there was no chance of him escaping my beautiful wrath. I smirked. Looks like it's the hard way. "Someone please help m-!"
I cut him off by shoving that long thorned-stick into his mouth. My hands were bleeding deeply as I squeezed into the thorns, pricking and scratching and tearing my flesh apart. Adrenalin pumped through my blood and I loved the rush I was getting, as I watched him squirm like a worm. Blood spilled out of his mouth, presumably from his tongue and the insides of his cheeks which were savagely being torn, while I pushed that devil's walking stick deep into his throat. His scream was muffled, he couldn't move, his body was spazzing and his eyes were crying and rolling backwards.
I can't describe to you the satisfaction that I felt. His face was turning into a mixture of colors - pink, red, purple and even blue. It was better than looking into a bright sunset. This was raw and the genuine beauty of human anguish. God, it was blissful.
I wasn't finished yet. I pulled the thorned-stick out, which was now stained with his blood, and I slapped him fiercely. Blood sprayed everywhere while he was panting heavily, like he had resurfaced from holding his breath in the ocean. He was sickly pale now, his face was deadly white with the burning red imprint of my hand, and he was shaking frantically, almost as if he ready to pass out. He was bent over and he vomited, his puke was mixed with a river of blood. I turned him around.
And let's just say the devil's stick ripped his anal apart, preventing him from walking properly ever again. I think I may have also destroyed his ability to shit. That's hilarious. My hysterical laughter was louder than his screams, yet no one would hear us in this isolated forest. But I wasn't done yet. The kid was still brave enough, still wonderfully stupid enough, to curse me with profanities. It was only fueling the sweetness I felt at the expense of his pain.
Then he went too far and he called me a 'rat'. He can call me all the horrible things in the world, except rat. Why, you may wonder? Well, that's my business, you nosy fuck.
So, what do I do next?
I opened my mouth wide like a lion preparing for his almighty roar, and I wrapped my lips around his ear, sinking my teeth into his skin. Then I completely snapped my teeth shut and I stretched his ear. I did it slowly at first for him to feel the lingering pain. His scream was beginning to get hoarse, like he was losing his voice. I laughed. Then, with a quick vicious tug of my head, his ear ripped off. He collapsed on the floor and screamed and cried and cursed and thrashed around, but he eventually passed out when I kicked his face.
His complexion was drained of color, but his face was beautifully painted in his blood. He wasn't moving at all. Just lying there like a lifeless object. I'm guessing the kid died from blood loss. I laughed again because it was just so damn funny and sweet for me. He didn't know what I was capable of doing - but I showed him. And you can believe that I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I could.
I spat his ear out of my mouth. I still wasn't done with him yet. Flicking out my trustworthy knife, I ripped off his shirt. I was going to have fun slicing him open. Make that extra cash by selling his organs to the black market. Maybe hang his pretty little head up? Yeah, that would be a nice decoration. And I'll, of course, collect his heart and feed it to my Lion God, as I've always done with my previous victims.
"Thank you," I whispered to the dead body. The idiot had unknowingly sacrificed himself to me when he challenged me to a fight. Why, you may wonder? Fuck off- just kidding. I raped his sister, that's why.
Life is hilariously cruel, but I love it.
The Sadistic PsychopathWarning: Extreme violence.
By Who Cares?