Day 107 – Bubbles – Short Story

“I could’ve hidden longer, I could’ve ran,” he says as he looks into the glass, and watches as the bubbles float to the surface.

“Then why didn’t you run, why make it easy for me?”

“Because I knew even if I did you’d find me, eventually, somehow, someday, so I just decided not to prolong it, I didn’t want to always be looking over my shoulder expecting you to one day be standing there, ready to pounce.”

She laughs, “You really think you’re that important to me that I would waste my time hunting you down?”

“Well we’re sitting here aren’t we?”

“Please Devon, I may be psychotic but I’m not crazy, if you had of run, I wouldn’t have cared, I’m not some sadistic crazed killer,” she laughs again. “It sounds so funny when I actually say those words out loud, I mean, I am, I know, but I’m not, really, I’m something else. Certainly not a Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers type killer, I’m just your average, ordinary, real, flesh and blood, not made up killer,” she says as she straddles a chair in front of him and picks up the glass off the table and takes a mouthful, then offers the glass to him. “Thirsty?”

“Do you really care?”

She slaps him across the face, “I offered you some compassion, not all my victims get this sort of treatment, so, again, thirsty?”

“No!” he yells, she slaps him again.

“Don’t be such a spoilt brat Devon, I want this to be friendly, I’d hate for it to end on bad terms, not with you, I mean we were almost family for a little while.”

He laughs, “Fuck you, you killed my friends and family, you tried to kill me and when you couldn’t do that you tried to frame me for everything, so I think we’re way past friendly!”

“I guess you’re right, I mean, I did all those things, but you did forget the part where I fucked your dad though, of course we shouldn’t really bring him into it, I mean, no one should speak ill of the dead, and I could tell you a few things about your dad that would make you shudder with disgust, I mean, he was really into some weird shit. But again, no ill speaking of the dead,” she says as she looks over to his father’s lifeless body,. “Especially when they’re in the room.”

“Why don’t you just get this over with, instead of trying to make yourself feel good about what you’re going to do, just DO IT!”

Once again she slaps him across the face, “I will do what I like when I like, and if I want to sit here and have a conversation with you before I split your skull with the same axe I buried into your fathers skull, then I will god damn do that!”

“DO IT, DO IT!” he yells through clenched teeth, saliva dripping from his mouth, spit flying through the air and tears running down his face, she moves back in shock and surprise and begins to laugh hysterically.

“And you call me crazy, you’re the one who’s in need of a shrink,” She says as she gets up from the chair and drags the axe along the floor, carving a track behind it in the concrete. She hoist it up onto her shoulder and frowns as she looks down at him.

“I’ll see you in hell,” he hisses.

“Honey, make sure you keep my spot warm,” she says as she brings the axe down.

 

END

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Great story! Short, sweet and twisted.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much! I liked the idea of how we perceive ourselves more important in other people’s lives than we actually are, and the idea of a serial killer who wasn’t really that obsessed with a victim as the victim had believed, helped me really overindulge in the idea.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I like this. It is an interesting conversation and it says a lot about what this guy has experienced at this killers hands. She seems to have quite the ego. I do enjoy how she ends their conversation before bringing the axe down.

    Cheers! ^_^

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I thought maybe her ego was going to be her undoing, she enjoyed the back and forth, where he, well, it was obvious he just wanted it done. Thanks, I’m glad you liked it.

      Liked by 1 person

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