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A SHORT STORY.... Not of my usual type of writing, but I just thought I'd play creatively with the horror genre for the first time. WARNING: Not for the faint-hearted!

I did it. I plunged the knife into your throat and now I have to watch you die. Right there before me, blood is spurting out of you and I see the horror that's in your eyes as you process what I’ve done. There is no doubt that I still love you as I watch you clutch at your neck. Your eyes are so wide, you are harrowing to witness.

While you frantically try to gulp your own blood, I see your eyes burning your question into me: how could I do this to you? I can’t answer you now, I am already feeling a level of regret like I never imagined possible. But it’s too late for you. I can’t phone for help; you will be dead in a matter of minutes if not seconds. I am already starting to grieve you, even though you are still alive with me in this moment. You are still living the terror I have instilled upon you.

Only now I see that this reality I have created will hurt me far more than I have hurt you. Yes, I see the pain in you now and dear God, I wanted you to feel that pain—but I’ve already made the memory of what I’ve done, and my actions are set to spiral around within me forever more. You are already haunting me, with your distressed expression and eyes which are now bulging from their sockets. I must watch your futile attempts to plug the hole in your neck with your fingers, your whole body now covered in your blood, and I must listen to you as you gasp for air.

As your legs give way and you drop to the floor, I want to tell you that I’m sorry, but I can’t bring myself to say those words. I am sorry that we both hurt each other this much, but you deserved this—you deserved this for how you treated me. I’ve made sure you can never hurt anyone else in the ways you have hurt me. But now it seems in turn that I have also ended my own life; that is clear for me to see. Oh God, this makes me want to hurt you even more.

While I sought freedom from your vice like love, I have gained nothing and lost everything. You have taken my life from me and yet it was me who slit your throat. You are beyond my worst nightmare and yet I will always love you. You are my downfall.

I’m on my knees next to you and I no longer know if you still realise that I am here. Your eyes are glazed, but I think your pulse is still struggling to beat. I cannot bring myself to touch you, although I wish I could have kissed you one last time now that it has come to this. I will always replay scenes from our past in my mind. I will be addicted to remembering our passion, the way your playful tongue entered my mouth when you kissed me, the way that you tugged at my hair when our bodies were one. I will be forever be possessed by the memory of your body and the way your touch felt on my skin. But there is nothing beautiful about you now as you lie before me, changing into a corpse. You are a sickening sight and your beauty has already died.

I’m still holding the knife in my hands and your blood is all over me too. I won’t move until you are dead and even then I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do. So many times I have thought about doing this to you. Every time I’ve taken a knife to a chopping board of late and felt its unmerciful blade pass through my fingers, I have looked at you and imagined calmly walking over to you and slicing you open. I never dreamt of cutting you in any other place; it’s always been your neck that has appealed the most. Your most vulnerable part is where I wanted to get you. This is payback, but now you’re dying right here in our kitchen, I wonder if you ever saw it coming. I don’t think you believed I had it in me to do this—you thought I was so weak.

As your body releases itself to death, I push the tip of our knife into the palm of my hand. Then I see it, I see the moment your heart stops and you are gone. You are no longer with me and I am all alone. The pain in my hand is good. I push the knife in harder and I like how my blood is mixing with yours. Oh God, the reality of losing you is already too much to bear. What have I done to us? You knew I couldn’t take your antagonistic ways and yet you still taunted me, forever provoking me with your criticisms—I could never have been perfect like you wanted… but maybe I could have tried harder?

I am no longer a human, I now only exist as your murderer, and you are nothing more than meat. The only thing that helps to appease my suffering is now my pain. Our knife, that I can’t put down, is the only saviour that I know.

I’ve done it. I’ve slit my throat, and now I will die here with you. I am now no longer just your murderer; I will pay for my sins through avenging my retribution. In turn, I will become me again.

As I convulse down to the floor, I hope that you loved me as much as I love you. I pray there is no afterlife and that I can now descend into the nothingness that I desire the most.

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