Thanatophobia | VICTOR ZSASZ [DISCONTINUED]

sixty five | trespassers

While she walked closer and closer to her current victim that was trying his hardest to crawl as far away from her as he possibly could, Annabelle couldn't help but close her eyes and smell the scent of his blood that was growing stronger and stronger the more his legs had scraped against the pavement.

After she had spent her time trying to help Edward figure out why he couldn't remember what he did while he slept and watched him chain himself to a makeshift bed of his own, Annabelle left him inside of the building he slept in and went to go and find herself some more potential victims.

And she did.

She managed to find herself about ten more victims of hers until she came across the one she was slowly walking towards, while he strained to make himself crawl even faster towards the exit of one of her alleyways.

Naturally she would have just torn into his neck and been done with him, but she was curious to see what would happen if she broke every single bone in his legs and feet.

She honestly thought he would just sit there and stare up at her with wide eyes as he begged for her to grant him mercy, but not once did she expect to see him trying to quickly crawl towards the entryway of the alley.

And yet there he was, about five minutes after she broke his legs and feet, and silently watched as his breathing became faster and faster with each passing minute, along with hearing his groans every time the gashes on his legs opened even wider.

Just as she was about to break one of his arms to see how he would react to it, he suddenly collapsed onto the asphalt and let his blood start to leak some more out of his legs and start to make a small puddle of blood from where he laid.

Annabelle tilted her head as she crossed her arms over her chest before she stopped right beside his head and crouched down.

She grabbed the back of his head and raised it, which allowed him to narrow his eyes and nearly glare at her before she said to him, "I have to say, not many humans would do what you have just done. They would mostly just stare up at me and either beg me for mercy or start to scream as I rip out their throats." After she eyed him once more, she asked him, "Now, what is it about you that made you believe that you could crawl your way out of here?"

The only response she received from him was a spit in the face, which got her to blink several times before she wiped the spit off of her face.

She sighed as she slowly stood up and held him off of the ground, while she asked him, "Had your parents never taught you that spitting in someone's face is quite rude?"

He scoffed as he retorted, "I could ask the same about you. Did your parents never teach you not to just attack people?"

She sighed again before she tightened her grip on the back of his neck and harshly pulled his head back, which got him to let out a groan as she replied, "Well, no, they didn't. As a matter of fact, they didn't teach me much of anything, aside from which parts of the body you could hit or slash open that would put your victim in the worst pain imaginable. They taught me which parts of the body would make even the strongest person in the world let out a cry and beg for mercy. And do you know what else they taught me?" When he didn't respond, she brought her face close to his neck and grazed her teeth alongside his neck before she told him, "They taught me how to drive a person mad by putting them through a long and extensive period of time in which I tortured them. I could make even the most strong-willed person come out the complete opposite of the person they were when I started out with them. It's because of my cursed parents that I became a master in the art of torture in a little over a thousand years. And believe it or not, that's the only thing that I'm actually thankful for that they did to me."