~The Shadows of Iris and Me~Mature

I wrote this story to get inside the head of one of my characters; he is a true psychopath.

~The Shadows of Iris and Me~

I wanted to break her arms for the hurt she'd placed in my heart, so I did. I wanted to break her legs. And I did. I wanted full control over her. I wanted her immobile. So I killed two birds with one stone by breaking her arms and legs.

One angry thread, I felt, was beginning to sew my broken heart. Then, as suddenly as it came, it left. How dare she?! Iris was shaking on the ground from uncontrollable laughter! My best friend of years I’ve failed to count… The anger rose to a dangerous level; it even scared me. Perhaps it wasn’t enough to want control. I deserved more than that.

Even so, I’d already lost what little control I had gained. I grew sick watching her. She continued trembling with laugher. Tears streamed down her porcelain face from the thrill she was receiving. The amusement continued to prevent her from standing. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was mocking me. Gloating in her power over me.

“Had he no pride in himself? What would make him even think he had a chance with me? Well, if he wants to be a fool, that’s his problem. At least I’ll always have him within an arm’s length.” I knew that was exactly what she was thinking. I had news for her. She wouldn’t receive control. No. She would NOT have ownership of that and my heart.

What kind of friend was she, hurting me like this? I knew it was time to retrieve the only thing I could ever have in this life. Control.

We were in an abandoned pool house---one Iris and I had come to often as children to play. The moon’s light created shadows in the inside. The shadows of Iris and me. A smug smile existed casually on her face. I was about to wipe it off when her beauty stopped me in my tracks. Like a satin curtain of midnight, her hair fell to the middle of her back. Straight bangs hung just above her eyes of violet. Such an unusual color… That reminded me that she herself, like her eyes, was unusual. This was not a good thing.

I strode towards her, briefly noticing my pants on the cemented ground a little ways off. I reached for her, and stopped. I suddenly realized what I was doing; if I proceeded without caution, I would almost certainly be caught. I’d have to find a way to hide the evidence.

The ovular pool glittered in the moonlight. The water smiled at me with genuineness. I could trust it. I knew I could. The water told me what to do, and I knew it wasn’t lying.

Iris was lighter than I’d anticipated as---in one, swift movement---I lifted her off of the concrete, and hurled her into that limpid pool of truth. I could see her sinking to the bottom. Oh no, she would not escape from me. Not now. I’d come too far. It was clear she loathed me, evident she found me utterly repugnant and revolting. This was all the better for me. What better way for one to gain control over another than by forcing disgust?

I was glad Iris was wearing a skirt, and not because her legs were clearly visible to my eyes, which were---despite everything she did to me---still hungry for her image. The skirt was easy to shove out of the way.

Why wasn’t she screaming? I, the thing she loathed most in the world was inside of her! Could she not see the desperate measures I was taking just to upset her?!

When I noticed I was putting her to sleep, my impatience fed my fury still more. I’d drug her from the pool, and thrown her against the concrete when realization dawned upon me. I’d risked everything just by trying to get even with that brat. What if, at this very moment, a child was growing inside of her? Would she hate him or her as much as she hated me? I couldn’t put another soul through the torture I’d endured.

I reached for the knife inside the pocket of my suit jacket. A metallic glimmer met the moon’s light just before I made the first cut. I paused a moment, for I could not believe my ears. The loudest laugh I’d ever heard reverberated from her lungs. Ire filled my eyes, and drove me to continue. However, the deeper I cut, the stronger her laughter became. My mind was made up. I’d give up, but not before I completed my last mission. Soon, her uterus was lying on the concrete. My work here was done. I guess watching all of those medical shows had paid off.

I could not bear to look at that little wretch any longer. I tucked the knife back in my jacket’s pocket, put my pants back on, and left without so much as a glance over my shoulder. The place I left behind, it was too quiet. The witch. She’d laughed herself to tears just to spite me. Now, she was silent. Oh, that silence! It was unbearable! An urge overcame me. I had to return to the scene. I had to make another attempt at acquiring the control I desired so. However, when I looked inside of the place, another person was crouched by Iris---who was asleep. And then, there were flashing lights; they did nothing for my mood. Sure, I felt a little better. At least I’d tried. But illuminating colors did not blend with a still broken heart.

The last time I saw her, she was being rolled into a strange, box-shaped vehicle by random people---who had also placed a bowl of some sort over her mouth and nose. And then, she was gone. I began to walk away. Slowly. I did not want to go home just yet. Within the air was a new kind of peace. It refreshed me. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again, and I didn’t care. Sure, an emptiness---a bleak, dark emptiness---would always reside inside of me. But like I said, at least I’d tried.

The End

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