Always mine

She traced her fingers over her lips, remembering how he felt, how he tasted. But all she tasted now was the sharp salt of her fingers, and the bitter flavour of resent.
He was Sarah’s. But that would never have lasted. It was only fair that she should end things herself. She wouldn’t have wanted for things to get… messy.

Sarah was beautiful, with her raven black hair spilling over her ivory shoulders like black silk. Not unlike that of his bed sheets. She wondered with a pang of passionate jealousy if she had ever known the heat of that very bed. Digging her fingernails into her arms, she curled up into a tighter ball on the cold stone floor. She didn’t stop cutting in until a trickle of crimson laced down her bare arm. Releasing the grip on herself, she touched the blood with her fingers, trembling as she circled her tongue around them, finding comfort in the familiar sensation of warm blood on her taste buds.
It reminded her of that night, less than a month ago now. It was so perfect, the look of shock on her face when she had turned up in her apartment. It had been remarkably easy to take Sarah’s key from his pocket… child’s play. The image of her standing there, straight from the shower, nothing but a towel around her dripping wet, slender body was vividly photographic in her mind. Then, the expression of shock changing delightfully to morbid fear, as her victim had noticed the blade of the recently sharpened knife, glinting expectantly in her hand.
It had amused her, hearing Sarah call out pitifully for Ash, it was a shame he couldn’t come and watch; he might have enjoyed the performance. But he was safely out of harms way; he wouldn’t come round for at least another two hours. Taking her time, she circled Sarah, the lights were low and the doors locked, it was beginning to occur to Sarah that she had no means of escape. She was inspired by the pathetic whimper that escaped her innocent lips, and pushed her forcefully down onto the double bed. It was strangely exciting, how she enjoyed being in control of Sarah, and felt a rush of heat as she moved to the bed and sat straddling her victim. Tears were streaming down Sarah’s painfully pretty face, but her captor felt no pity, she was enjoying her first sweet taste of power. Sarah’s pleas grew louder, until she was screaming, tearing at the knife bearer’s skin, but she was silenced as she thrust the blade to her lips, the cold steal forcing them together. The blade was soon slippery wet with fresh salt tears, but the girl was becoming impatient, she wanted blood. Leaning in so their faces almost touched, Sarah tried to turn her head away, but her captor had her hair, and forced her to face her. She gave her a single kiss, on the salt fresh lips of her struggling prisoner, loving the rush of pleasure that surged through her body as she felt Sarah’s fear mounting.
Moving quickly, she withdrew from the bed, sliding the knife swiftly across Sarah’s stomach, dragging the towel to the floor, leaving a glistening gash in her bare stomach. She had only turned for a second, when Sarah was suddenly standing, and using what little strength she had to try and open the door of her bedroom frantically, but it was only an instant before she was noticed. Wrapping her arms round her victim, feeling the wetness of the blood from Sarah’s heavily bleeding cut, one hand went to her own lips, and she pushed her victim up against the wall. For a moment, their bodies were pressed together, but the final rush of adrenaline was felt as she slid her blade across her victim’s throat. Blood spilled from the dying girl’s neck, and her killer stood back to watch her crumple to the floor, with satisfaction and victory washing over her. Sarah’s dying expression turned to anguish, and drowning in her own blood, weak and defeated, she slumped to the floor.
After that it had all been a blur. The euphoric feeling of death had slowly faded from her satisfied body, as the sirens grew loud and the police forced the door down. And that’s how it had ended.
And now it was over. All she had were blissful memories. Sighing contentedly, she let her head fall back against the thick breeze blocked walls. Her hands fell to the floor, coming into contact once again with the cold stone floor. The cold stone floor of her high security prison cell.

By LadyPhoenix

More to me than meets the eye, my dreams may fail but I won't die...