Page 1 of Burning Souls

1

GRIM REAPER

Some people might state that killing is wrong, even if you are ridding the world of evil people. While I agree killing innocent people isn't right, killing people who don't deserve to be here for the sins they have acted on… Now that's a reason to keep doing what I do.

“Stop moving!” I yell, plunging the knife into the man's back, twisting left to right over and over, creating unbearable pain. The thickness makes my lips curl. The sight of blood excites me, giving me adrenaline I don’t need.

“The more you move, the longer this takes.” A grunt hits the room, and a smirk forms on my face. There is just something about watching a man who thought he ruled the world suffer under someone else's control.

My control…

The screams fill the void of my life.

“Don’t cry. No, seriously, please stop crying. The sound makes me want to rip my eyes out.” The man's face turns a dark crimson colour, looking as if it might blow up.

It gives me the feeling of rage around me. He doesn’t get to feel like this after what he did. It takes everything in me not to take a knife and cut his eyeballs out.

Carving out eyes takes a lot of time, and unfortunately, I don't have the time today.

As much as I want to enjoy this, all I can think about are my arms. I can see where I could pick something I don't want to, but I give in and scratch my skin raw. Stopping what I’m doing and looking at my skin, I see multiple scratches and patches where I have picked at it.

I didn’t think it had gotten this bad.

The man hangs, looking at me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I'm not as focused on him as I should be.

All I can focus on is the pain in my arms, the pain I love so much that I'm debating leaving this kill.

What the hell is wrong with me today?

When I kill, I always forget about my arms. I never have the chance to think, but here today, it's all I can think about.It’s consuming me.

Picking and scratching at my skin has been something I have done since I was a young girl. I would black out, not knowing I had been sitting and picking, or I would pick so much. Even when the pain was bad and I was bleeding, I couldn’t stop. I liked the discomfort.

No matter how many times people tell me to stop or that I’m going to have scars for the rest of my life, they don’t understand. I have no control. It’s the one thing in life that takes over my body.

I hate it.

The muffled screams become louder the more I let my brain sink back into reality, only to be reminded it’s the man screaming with everything he has.

I knew I should have kept the duct tape on him.

I'll make a mental note to keep the duct tape on for future kills.

No matter how much I try to focus on the task I'm doing right now, my arms are taking priority over it.They always do.

I'm hurting myself when I should be hurting this man. I don't deserve it, he does, yet my body can't help but punish me.

My body is punishing me for things that were never my fault, for the sins I was left to take on. They haunt me in my sleep, in my head, and worst of all, all over my body, making me feel the pain just like the others did. Leaving me with the scars and proof of the sinister acts I once committed.

The pain tells me I'm starting to feel something. After feeling numb for so long, I would do anything to feel any sort of emotion. Someone could drive a knife into my heart over and over, watching me bleed out, and I would thank them as my soul was sent to hell, right where all the others are sent.

The man trying to fight his way out of his restraints pulls me back to what I’m currently doing. I pull my arm away, moving back to the man.

His eyes are full of pure evil.

“Any last words before I send you into the pits of hell?” An evil laugh leaves my lips, the knife stabbing into the man’s bulge, not giving him a second to answer my question. Dark red blood splatters all over me and the floor. I take my knife, cutting the rope.

The man falls face-first, knocking himself out from the brutality he has endured.

---