Missing You Still

My Precious Piece Of Art

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Plz note that if ur squeamish then don't read this part. If tho u do like this stuff then ur my best mate. Yet again plz vote and comment. Thx xxx💀💀💀
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Every time Elliot tried to imagine that came next, success was never true. What came next could barely be put into words.

First came the ears. George's son had been found with shredded ears that were green with pus and mould. George intended to replicate that. Picking up a pair of rusted scissors that shrieked as if in agony when agitated, he began to snip delicately at the edges of Elliot's earlobe. Elliot whimpered in pain as the crimson flow burst from its barricades. The sight of the blood made Elliot's head swim as nausea wracked his body. George then slid one end of those wretched scissors through the centre of Elliot's ear. Elliot did everything in his power to not scream for he found if he did, George would press down harder.

Slowly, George transitioned from the ears to Elliot's cheekbones, the edge of the scissors blunted over time, making the process slow and agonising. He picked up a scalpel, stained red-brown from blood. Elliot's eyes grew wide with fear; salty tears flooded down his face.
"Stop! Stop crying!" George through his hands in the air with exclamation. "You're supposed to be perfect. You can't be perfect when your face is wet".
He gently wiped the tears from Elliot's face and with a disturbing look in his eye traced his fingers down, down his neck and along his chest. Scalpel back in hand, George raised his hand and taxed the scalpel in quick flick over his brow, his jawline, his nose, his cheeks. He did this again and again across Elliot's forehead, lips and near the bags under his fatigued eyes. During this- not knowing what was to come next- he felt like he would rather be dead.

George usually left the eyes till last, because the blood made the stitches go funny but he was too far in the motion. He gently pierced the pupil, moaning to himself in satisfaction. Scalpel then embedded, he slit up then down. Scarlet shot everywhere. The floor and walls in close vicinity were coated in yet another layer of thick, dark blood. Elliot couldn't helpbut scream then. The pain was unbearable. George ripped out the eye from it's socket and then repeated the process in the next eye. Elliot, his breath hitching, close to hyperventilating, shook and silently wished for his family to be happy and to not miss him as this would probably be his last thought. His short breaths finally came to a stop moments after and his life was torn from him.
"Oh shit!" George cried out, "this always happens. Why? Is there no fun in art?"
George stumbled of to get some wipes to clean up the blood and fetch a needle and thread. At least there's another BEAUTIFUL addition to my museum. George thought as he finished stitching his masterpiece.

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