My Killer

Pretty Nasty Delusions

No.

The silence stretched between us. I didn't know what to reply, nor did I want to. His sick confession left me numb in its wake.

Michael wanted to break me just so he could put me back together again. My mind couldn't seem to get past that point, to wrap itself around the very concept of it. His love, it scared me to the point that I tried to slip off of his lap despite his whole demeanor telling me that it wouldn't be an option.

Please...

I can't...

Just... let me go...

I don't know why I even tried. My weak attempt only ended in him holding onto me even more firmly than before. His arms etched themself into my tummy, keeping me in place by using only a fraction of the true strength he possessed to do so.

"I... I... ugh... I think I'm gonna be sick."

No sooner had the words left my lips than did a blast of red liquid follow in their wake. The ruby mix of wine combined with stomach acid hit the table before us, which in turn ruined the stew he had just made for us, or rather reheated for us.

Ughh... gods...

The... the... the spinni... ugh...

Ugh...

The initial blast of red was shortly followed by another, and then another. Michael didn't let go of my struggling form even once through it all. He held me in the most uncomfortable position on his lap as I reached, not allowing me to lean forward until I was finally done.

The result of his actions combined with my sick could be seen on so many surfaces that my face would have drained of all blood had I not already been as pale as a ghost. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn't help but tremble in fear as I surveyed the damage before me, as I surveyed the huge mess.

Dear god...

No... no... no...

He's... he's gonna... he's gonna... kill me...now...

My breath came out in short uneven gasps, and just like that, the magic of the red courage was broken to bits. I had never felt so fucking sober in my entire life. I still felt sick though, sick but freakishly sober.

"I'm so sor..."

I didn't get any further in my higher-pitched apology, Michael's jarring laughter boomed up from behind me and froze my panicked tongue. He was chuckling so hard that his body shook with it and, in turn, me with it.

"You really... heh... seriously... one could almost think that you truly have a death wish here, Soph..."

Michael's amused voice slid around me from behind once the chilling laughter had subsided. His arms loosened their grip, yet never actually let go, as he herded me off of his lap. I felt sick to my stomach, but it wasn't because of the wine anymore. No, it was because of the very prospect of what was to come. My hands were clammy, my chest hurt, and my wide eyes blurred.

He's going to... to...

Please no...