Page 10 of Slay All The Way

“Look at you,” I hiss, as I push myself into his mouth, feeling his lips stretch around me as I thrust deeper, making sure to hit the back of his throat. He gags and sputters, coating my girth in a layer of blood filled saliva, and I revel in the power I have over him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Take it all, you pathetic little worm. Look how desperate you are, sucking off a freak in the alley just to keep your life.” I pull his hair harder, forcing him to take me deeper, feeling him struggle beneath me, helpless and begging for release.

He moans around me, his eyes wide with terror and humiliation, but I don’t give a damn. I’m lost in the pleasure of it, the sheer ecstasy of watching him fall apart. I thrust faster, harder, enjoying every moment of degradation.

“There you go, that’s a good boy,” I growl, and the sound of my voice seems to push him further into submission. I can feel myself nearing the edge, and with one final thrust, I bust, sending jets of come shooting down his throat.

He gags again, choking on the thick liquid, and it brings a smile to my face. I pull out, watching as he gasps for air, blood still oozing from the hook embedded in his cheek, his body trembling.

“Now,” I say, my voice low and dangerous, “it’s time for you to learn about the true spirit of Christmas.”

I twist the hook, savoring the sound of his flesh ripping, the wet gurgling noise as he tries to scream. Blood sprays across the snow-covered ground, painting it red. Christmas red.

He’s still struggling, his hands weakly trying to pull the hook free, but it’s no use. I yank it out with a savage jerk, tearing his face open even more. The skin hangs in ragged flaps, his eyes wide with terror, his breath coming in shallow, gurgling gasps.

Behind the mask, my lips pull into a smirk. Fuck, I’m loving this. Theres nothing like the adrenaline rush that taking a life gives you. Nothing except watching my little snowflake that is.

Reaching into my coat, I pull out a candy cane, its bright red and white stripes glimmering under the faint moonlight. “Perfect,” I say, letting the sugary treat dangle tantalizingly in front of his eyes, watching as confusion and dread flicker across his face.

With a swift motion, I plunge the candy cane deep into his chest. The sharp tip driving into his flesh like a knife through butter. He lets out a choked cry, his body jerking violently against the wall, but it’s fucking pointless. It doesn’t matter that he’s a big guy. Even I know at this point, I’m in control and nothing he could do, would change that.

“Look at you,” I taunt, twisting the candy cane as it breaks apart inside him, shards of sugary glass mingling with his blood. “Now you’re a real holiday treat. How fucking festive. Don’t you think?”

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a wet, rattling breath. His body slumps against the wall, the life draining from his eyes. But I’m not done. Not yet.

With each passing second, I feel a rush of satisfaction wash over me, the thrill of my artistry mingling with the scents of blood and sugar. I lean in closer, inhaling the metallic tang of his blood mixed with the sweet peppermint scent of the crushed candy cane. This is my fucking masterpiece, and I want to savor every goddamn moment of it.

“Let’s see how you shine,” I whisper, giving him one quick sprinkle of the glitter I bought, adding that final touch to my holiday horror show.

I grab a string of Christmas lights from a nearby trash bin, wrapping them around his neck and pulling tight. The lights dig into his throat, cutting into his skin, squeezing tighter and tighter until his face turns a shade of purple that rivals the Christmas ornaments hanging from the stalls. His legs kick weakly, trying to find footing, but I yank the cord again, harder this time.

The wet gurgling sound of his last breath fills the alley, his eyes bulging, hands clawing at the string of lights, but it’s all in vain. The blood dripping from his mangled cheek glistens under the holiday lights. I take a step back, watching as his body goes limp, the life finally drained from him.

“Much better,” I whisper, admiring my handiwork. The string of lights is wrapped tight around his throat, the glitter sparkling on his mutilated face like some grotesque fucking holiday decoration. I step back, taking it all in—the blood-soaked snow beneath his body, the faint twinkle of the Christmas lights still plugged into a socket nearby. It’s bloody perfect.

But there’s one last touch.

“Happy Holidays,” I mutter, before slipping away from the scene, leaving the body glittering like a bloodstained Christmas ornament for the rest of the town to find.

The market is still bustling as I return to the stall, the warmth of the crowd and the clamor of cheerful voices at odds with the chaos I just left behind. I find the oldwoman again, still at her stall, her tired eyes lighting up when she sees me.

The town is bathed in the warm glow of holiday lights as I walk away. The air smells of roasting chestnuts and spiced cider, but none of it touches me. I’m in my own world now, a world filled with her. Alaska.

My snowflake.

As I stroll past another stall, the echoes of distant laughter reach my ears. Families, couples, and children—blissfully oblivious to the fact that this year, Santa is up to much more than just delivering presents. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to shatter their joy, to spread cheer in my own twisted way, and reveal just how tainted with blood their beloved jolly Santa’s suit truly is.

But no. Tonight is abouther. She deserves my full attention, and I won’t let anything distract me from that. There’s something intoxicating about the idea of giving her a gift that no one else can. Something no one else would understand.

I slip through the trees, the market fading behind me, and make my way back to the cabin.

5

ALASKA

A Nonsense Christmas - Sabrina Carpenter

Idry the last dish, my fingers tightening around the sponge as Mark’s voice drifts from the couch. He’s on his phone, not even pretending to hide his disinterest. The hockey game is blaring in the background, but his voice cuts through it like a jagged edge. He’s talking to one of his buddies from back home, but it’s less conversation and more him ranting.

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