Annika Jones

Afterwards, he whispers words of love, to make sure he'll be able to do it again, as if he really believes you're okay with it all. He caresses your breasts and kisses your nipples, the ones he bit until they bled only minutes before, and his lips are soft and gentle.

You let him, knowing that doing anything else will only make things worse. You let him, even though you hurt and what you really want is to burn his sweat and semen off your skin with boiling hot water. But you let him, just to end the degradation. And you add your disgust to the growing mass of hate in your soul.

It's like a child, yours and his, growing in your womb.

He'll fuck you again. He'll pull your hair and bite your lip until you taste your own blood, and he'll pretend you like it. He'll pretend you think you deserve it. And you'll hate him, but you'll let him, too weak to break away.

But you'll wake up, one night, finding him smiling at you while trying to force himself inside you, and he won't notice the change in your eyes, he won't expect your fist smashing into his face. Not until it impacts and throws him back with the force of all your rage and loathing.

You'll feel his nose crack in the impact and you'll like it. He'll crawl up and try to move away and you'll smile. There'll be fear in his eyes and it'll fill you with joy and contentment. He'll know he deserves it, and you won't let him pretend otherwise.

There'll be a pair of scissors on the desk next to you and you'll grab them and sink the blades into his chest. You won't care how much he's screaming, you'll laugh at his pleading. The blades will cut into your palms and blend your blood with his but you'll continue. You'll stab him, over and over, and you'll notice how his screams turns into whimpers just before they fade into silence. You'll notice his muscles go limp but you'll have more rage to pour so you'll keep stabbing, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing until the neighbors start beating on the door.

You'll stop then, sit down in the growing pool of blood, and wait. And you'll be empty, all empty and tired, because there was nothing but darkness left in you.

 

Annika Jones is a Scandinavian writer of flash fiction horror and erotica. You can find her stories in various e-zines such as Clean Sheets Erotica Magazine and Black Petals Horror Magazine. For more information, please visit her website at www.annikajones.se.