Page 14 of Darkest Fantasies

Her body stiffens, eyes widen. “I’ve always had a gut feeling I was being used for something by him. I’ve seen his exes. I’m not his type.” She giggles. “It makes perfect sense as to why she was always lingering in the hallways, why she never left us fully alone, why she was always kissing his ass, why she catered to him more than she should.”

Her hand grips the handle of the knife tighter to the point her hand begins to shake. “Him having a relationship with my stepmother is not what makes me angry,” she mutters under her breath. “I could care less about that. I wasn’t in love with him; my heart belongs to another.” Her breathing gets harder as she looks at me with a mix of emotions I can’t quite grasp. I've had my suspicion that she knows it’s me but that look solidifies it.

“What gets me angry is that I stayed with him because I was forced to. My stepmother knew that he abused me. The first timeit happened, I opened up to her. I told her I was going to break up with him. I thought she would understand, and support me woman to woman, but no, she flipped out on me, threatening me with making my life a living hell, kicking me out of the house, and all sorts of other crazy ways to torture me. I had to suck it up, I couldn’t go to my father he wouldn’t care. All he would ask is, what did I do to Kelly to warrant such a reaction,” She scoffs.

I don’t dare to make a sound or to move. I only listen. This is what she needs right now: someone to let it all out with. She can’t talk about these things to her friends. They won’t understand - Not like I do, and deep down, she knows it too.

“So I dealt with it. Dissociating from the world, myself, and mostly from him when he would get angry, waiting, counting the days till I no longer needed to be in that house.” Tears fall freely, unguarded down her cheeks. “I always felt that when he would get angry with me he was taking out his problems on me because I never felt like I did anything to invoke that sort of anger, that hatred. I was his punching bag.” She cleans her tears with her shirt sleeve.

“Isn't it right that he’s returned the favor?” I whisper, breaking the silence, waiting with bated breaths for her to reply, but nothing comes. I’m not sure how long we stand here before she bellows a scream that sounds like it’s coming from the darkest, deepest corner of her soul. Everything happens so fast that it takes me a second to wrap my mind around what is going on. One second, she is wrapped in my arms and the next she is on top of Matt plunging the knife into his body. The moment the knife breaks skins, Matt jerks awake, dazed at first, until he realizes what’s going on. He tries to beg her to stop, but her fury blinds her.

She keeps stabbing him repeatedly, screaming profanities, blood spilling everywhere. Matt’s muffled cries slowly recede.

I lean on the wall, watching the scene in front of me unfold with a wicked smile on my face and my cock straining against my pants. She’s as vicious as I thought she would be. She just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

Chapter 11

Catherine

“Let go, my little shadow,” he whispers. His breath on my skin sends a shiver up and down my body. The feel of his calloused fingers wrapping around my wrist brings me back from inside myself, helping my tunnel vision to recede. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“What have I done?” I ask myself as I look down at the mutilated corpse in front of me and the blood covering my body.So much blood.

Remorse hits me like a battering ram. What have I done? I’m not the type of person to let their rage dictate their actions. I didn’t think I would ever let my dark thoughts control me to the point I took a life.

He’s dead, he’s dead. You killed him.

This isn’t me. No, this is not me. This was him. This is his fault. He instigated my anger. He made emotions I’ve been trying to suffocate come to the surface. I’ve learned to numb it all, and he, in one second, destroyed my self-control. My mind is spinning. It’s funny how a matter of minutes can change the trajectory of your entire life and you as a person.

“You did nothing wrong. He had it coming.” Is he serious right now? My grip tightens on the blade still in my hand. “His fate was sealed the moment he stared into your pretty eyes.”

“I know I did nothing wrong. This is all your fault.”

“Mine?” he exclaims. His tone sounds as if he is amused by my comment, sending irritation coursing through my veins.

“Yes.” My fist tightens on the hilt of the blade. “You made me do this.” With the small amount of adrenaline still pounding in my ears, I pull on my arms, remove the hold he has on my wrist, get off the bed, and stand in front of him, my feet firm on the ground and my knife outstretched in front of me ready to defend myself or readying myself to end his life too. At this point, my life has turned into madness. I'm not sure what I’m capable of.

“I don’t know what fucking sick game you’re playing, but I’m no longer part of it. I asked you to leave me alone. I begged you to let me go, but you had to push me until I exploded.” He chuckles, making the volcano inside of me erupt. “How is this situation even funny?” What is wrong with him?

He breaks the few inches left between us, towering over me, pressing his body against mine, slowly pushing me against the wall. A breath whooshing out of me. He grabs my chin with his thumb and index finger, caressing my bottom lip with his thumb. I look up at him, my eyes connecting with cold onyx ones. Desperation, desire, and anger flickering in them.

With his free hand, he grabs a fist full of my hair. “You’re so fucking sexy when you're angry, my little shadow.” My breath quickens.

“Stay away from me.” I manage to breathlessly say.

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Is that what you really want?”Yes. No. I don’t know.

What I really want is to look under that mask. It’s been driving me. Letting the need I feel to see him control my actions,without thinking anymore, I grab the bottom of his mask and remove it off his face, throwing it on the floor.

My heart hammers as I study his masculine features: jet-black disheveled hair, bushy eyebrows, straight nose, and prominent jawline. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

I’m not sure how long I stare at him, but his eyes never waver from mine. He looks down at me with a slight, closed-lipped smile. “Do you like what you see?” he says in a husky tone that sends a tingle down to my core.

“Yes,” I murmur, not realizing I said it out loud until I see his eyes darken with desire from my answer. I go to open my mouth, unsure of what I’m going to say, but before I can get anything out, his mouth lands against mine- kissing me hard, aggressively. Sparks consume my skin, the heat in my stomach flares to life, and my pulse beats wildly against my ears, shutting out everything. I no longer care that I killed my boyfriend in cold blood. I no longer care that his blood is covering my skin. All I want to do is bask in the euphoria this man makes me feel.

“You’re mine,” he growls, gripping me so tight my eyes water. “Do you understand? You’re fucking mine.” I’m not sure why his possessiveness makes a warmth radiate through my chest. It makes me feel as if I’m wanted. If a normal person would be listening to my conversation with myself they would send me straight to a hospital. But good thing they’re not. I’ve always known there’s a darkness inside of me. It’s probably why I feel safe around him.

His darkness recognizes mine.

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