Page 89 of Property of Necro

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I don’t listen.

“It hurts,” she chokes.

Oh. It hurts, does it?

Blah. Blah. Blah. Cry me a river.

I do it again.

And she shrieks.

It’s perfection.

It’s everything.

My cock bucks, loving this far more than me.

When she tries to crawl away, I don’t let go.

I fuck her until I’m done.

No matter how much she whines.

Or begs.

Or screams.

This is what happens when you do sick shit to kids.

I will come for you.

I will use you.

Abuse you.

And then you die.

Too bad for her, I just lost my only link to humanity.

The one who gave me hope.

A sliver of it.

I’ve never had that before.

And I’ll never have it again.

Because if this is what hope feels like, I don’t want it. The suffocating pressure on my chest. I can breathe, but can’t. Not enough. It’s tight, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t draw enough air. It aches and never stops aching like a phantom scar that didn’t heal quite right.

I don’t want any part of it.

Not if it means this.

Any ounce of good in me is gone.

Sola took it with her when she walked out the door and left us.

Left. Me.

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