The thing in my basement. [pt 1.]
{this is a work of fiction. repeated themes of kidnapping, violence, financial, emotional, physical abuse, yandere/toxic behavior, revenge, darling obsession, weaponized incompetence, gaslighting, body modification, captivity, stalking, drugging, sedating, no themes involving sexual material. Minors dni as usual.}
The scrape of my bat taps an anxious rhythm along the gravel, not far from the speed of my heartbeat. You were so close, mere inches it seems despite the genuine distance between us. You've got headphones on, you usually do after work- and tonight was a long shift. You won't hear me until I get three feet away from you.
This could have been avoided. If you'd just listened, just paid attention to the signs.
It didn't have to come to this.
I can feel your ease. You're almost home. But tonight you'll return to an empty apartment and the reminder that the cameras around and inside the property don't work. You'll wonder where I am, your precious little pet that you've been neglecting recently. He's been skittish, you'll only have the thought as my bat sinks into your temple.
You've never felt such a thick and hallow thud. I've felt it; that brain rattle, the gut wrench and disorientation.
Knees wobbling, pained gasps, I've seen it before. Pathetic.
"Down, dog." I can feel the snarl deep in my chest, fixing my grip on the bat to shove you inside. The jab is perfectly placed, that sensitive spot right between the dimples of your hips along your spine. Harsh, digging and twisting.
You'd forgotten I'd gotten taller. Stronger while you had your back turned.
You crumble and crawl as I knew you would, throwing on the tears to mask your confusion and defeat. You're begging already for an answer, my name easily coming to your mouth and leaving as though it has no real weight.
I'd have broken now had you pushed me less. Begged your forgiveness and let you drag me off and chain me to the sink in the bathroom, my own little wet cupboard to think about my crimes in. I don't recognize myself, sullen and rabid like this.
I hate having to do this.
I hate being your karma.
I wanted to be your relief.
Now I'm reduced again to an infected hellhound.
"Nik-" The black violence takes me before I can grip it. Your voice breaks the final string.
*THUD.*
"All you had to do was need me. Adore me. In your sick little way. Now it's my turn. You'll learn to love me, or you'll get used to being half conscious and stammering on *my* fucking floor." I speak to your dazed and silent face, dragging you by the scruff of your shirt to the basement, where I don't bother adding insult to injury by kicking you down the stairs as much as I wish to.
You're too stunned to move as I shut and lock the basement door, and I don't hear a single noise for several hours. Your blood on my face has dried, and become the first part of the painting I plan to continue on my pretty wooden bat.
We'll see how amenable some time in the dark makes you.
