DEAREST, pansy parkinson

xvii: darling, dearest, dead

tw: murder, blood, maniacal behavior

Scarlet colored liquid dripped from her hands like water from a just turned of foucet; slowly, tracing red lines down her palms. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Down her fingers, her nails, all the way down to a puddle on the floor.

"She's only asleep"

"She can't be dead"

Though the blade she weld, and the gaping hole on in the other girls' abdomen screamed otherwise.

The ringing.

Stinging her ears, carefully groomed for only her to hear. Through her ears, around and around and around like the white horses that rotated around a carousel.

She couldn't bear it, hands shooting up to her ears. A millennial spent, wishing. Hoping for this moment. Ruining everything in her path to experience this.

Lorelei Ackroyd wasn't near ready.

She was surprisingly calm, Pansy, considering she was just about to have a knife plunged into her abdomen.

The revolution of it all pierced her, and the blade hurt less, the sensation of knowing her lover was the one who did it cut her deeper than the knife ever would.

There were many ways Lorelei could've planned Pansy's demise. A million, if you must. But she didn't. She didn't even see herself do it. She didn't feel it.

It didn't soothe the addiction, it didn't fix the voice screaming in her head telling her that she needed it.

Do it Lorelei.

What's one more, Lorelei?

Just shove it in.

You won't get caught.

You're only doing this to be with her for eternity evermore.

This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted her. She wanted the body that laid lifelessly in front of her. She wanted Pansy's smile, and Pansy's voice. She wanted Pansy, and she ruined her.

Lorelei needed to let it out. She needed to tell Pansy but Pansy was dead, at the hand of no other than, Lorelei Ackroyd.

She was going insane.

One last letter.

One last letter.

One last letter.

Dearest Pansy,

Please understand that I am so, very sorry.

I- I didn't mean to.

I wanted you but I ruined you.

I can't live without you.

Pansy, you can't hear me. You won't respond.

But still, please forgive me.

It was an accident. I didn't want to do it, but the screams. The voices.

I had everything planned in an instant. It didn't help. I'm still suffering.

But I deserve it and you deserved not one piece of it

You shouldn't have loved me, I told you I was dangerous.

And now you're dead because of me. And now I sit here, quill scribbling across the parchment, writing a letter to a dead girl. A girl I murdered. And you're not alive, Pansy.

You're dead.

dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead DEAD.

Darling, Dearest, Dead.

I want to laugh, smile, cry, and kick at this same time.

I need to get you away, you need to LEAVE MY HEAD.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

GET OUT.