The Voice Inside My Head

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A/N This isn't expressly schoolwork, just like Word Vomit wasn't, but it's just something that I had inspiration for and decided to write

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A/N This isn't expressly schoolwork, just like Word Vomit wasn't, but it's just something that I had inspiration for and decided to write. Grace, I'd recommend not reading this, but I mean I don't control you. Just a warning, it's a little violent.


"You know they're lying."

I ran my thumb up and down the cleaver's wooden handle, the circular metal disc acting as a worrystone. This is real.

"Go on. Do it."

I raised the cleaver, but let it fall down to my side. 

"Where?" My voice was weak, causing him to chuckle in amusement. He clicked his tongue, thinking for a moment before pointing a finger at its leg.

"There. Just above the ankle."

I took a steadying breath, but raised the cleaver once again. It felt incredibly light in my hand, like I could swing it... so I did. It came down on the sleeping cat's leg, messily severing its foot. 

"Huh," he said, "I didn't know cat's could scream."

I dropped the knife immediately. I knew it was wrong, God it was so wrong. It couldn't be real, it wasn't real. Was it real?

The knife clattered to the ground, and he made a face. "What's that for? You can't leave your weapon behind. Don't be stupid. You did this, and now I'll teach you how to get out of it, capiche?"

My eyes went wide, staring at him with a vacant expression. He was kidding, right? There was no possible way that I had actually mutilated a cat. Right?

"I.. I did this?" My eyes wandered slowly downward towards my feet. There was blood strewn across the flagstones, the cat was nowhere in sight. I cried out, hopping backwards. "Oh God, there's so much blood."

"There is no God." He stepped forward, tilting my head upwards, willing, no, forcing me to look into his cold, steel eyes. "There's only you... and me."


A/N Okay so I actually like this and want to write more but hmmm do I just make it longer or make it a story?

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