Page 38 of Tainted Serenity

The monster has arrived, feeding on the demons in my mind and transforming me into someone I do not recognize. His head hits the marble floor once again as a groan slips from his lips. Blood gathers on the hard surface, and I know I have to hurry if I’m going to get the job done properly. Arthur will not accept this man being unconscious as I end his life. He wants me to make him suffer.

“F-fuck off.”

He struggles to talk properly because of his broken lip, spitting blood on me which only inflames my rage. With my hand marred with bruises and dried blood, I stroke his cheek, smearing out the blood from his nose as I do so. The sight of him repulses me to the point of wrinkling my nose, yet I never look away from him. Instead, I stare straight into his eyes, letting him witness the seething emotions swirling in my irises.

With the dagger in my other hand, I inspect it closely. It has black leather on the handle that is comfortable and fitting in my grip, and on the blade itself is something inscribed.

The letters “A.G.”

Arthur Grimhill.

A sense of recognition takes over me as I remember the dagger from the day my precious doll was stabbed. It’s the same one; its blade once coated in her blood, nearly taking her life. I surrender to the overwhelming emotions, not able to control them anymore. It’s as if power has taken hold of me, consuming me in a maelstrom, leaving me powerless as I am forced to give up control of my body entirely.

“Do you know what kind of knife this is?” I ask him, watching him like a predator watches its prey.

His gray eyes stare back at me with confusion etched across his face, his eyebrows drawn and furrowed.

“A d-dagger?”

It’s pathetic how much he stutters, too scared to utter a single sentence correctly. I click my tongue at his poor attempt at guessing.

I drag the dagger across his skin without punctuating it, making his body quiver with untold fear.

“The one dagger that Arthur drove into her stomach as I was forced to watch. She fucking screamed, and it tore through my heart, but I could do nothing to save her.”

I stare at him wide-eyed, and instead of feeling sadness about telling him what happened, all I feel is anger coursing through me until I am full of it. There is a flood of resentment washing over me, as though it’s a floodgate of anger.

“I’m sorry, m-man.”

My fist connects with his nose, having had enough of his words. I know he isn’t sorry; no one will ever be able to resonate with this kind of feeling, and therefore he cannot comfort me.

“There’s nothing that will wash away the images of her falling lifeless against them. Fucking nothing. And now I will do to you what they did to her, with this exact same knife.”

This time as I speak, his fear comes out in a whimper as he tries to crawl further away, but it is futile. His eyes become significantly larger, and his terror hangs thick in the air, poisoning every part of the corridor we find ourselves in. What happens next makes me take a step back. The smell of urine fills my nostrils; a pungent odor and its acrid stench making me recoil. Pathetic tears fall down his cheeks like a waterfall, and I cannot find it in me to care about his torment.

“P-please!” His voice is hoarse, begging for mercy I am unable to give.

Driven by the consuming rage, all I can think about is that he has to suffer the same way she did, as if I am taking out my revenge on this innocent man. Except he isn’t innocent; not if he is on Arthur’s killing list, no one gets there without a reason.

I lift the dagger, plunging it into his stomach all the while memories of my doll getting stabbed replays like a broken record in my mind. I push it deeper, blood coating my hand until his screams die out, and I feel my soul leave its confinements in my body.

I don’t feel like myself anymore.

Perhaps I never did.

Chapter 15

Naya

Watching the blood trickledown my arm mesmerizes me. It leaves the artery of my lower arm in a gushing flow, enveloping it in cascades of crimson-red that have a sour, more metallic scent. I stare down at the blood, feeling nothing in my mind except numbness. At least I can feel the stinging pain from the cut. That pain is good. It transfers over to my mind, mixing pain with numbness in a beautifully tragic way.

I’ve reached a new low, hurting myself like this to get some reprieve from reality.

I don’t know how long I stare at the blood, but it eventually stops gushing down and instead starts slowly falling along with the beat of my heart.

It feels good, hurting myself.

I drop the stone on the floor, putting it under the queen-sized bed. Arthur definitely knows I have this stone, as he probably watches the screens from all the cameras he has installed throughout the castle-like manor.

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