Chapter Text
Bodies broke like toys in my hands.
Smoke leaked in billows from the truck.
I revelled in their screams.
> Execute([LIFT])
> executing command = [LIFT]
How nostalgic... Taking human life again. In this suit . Spring Bonnie, my sweet innocent tool.
It was easier to kill now than when I was alive. The children were simple, but these men... they never stood a chance. Invigorating. I only wished I had the time to savor it... yet, another thing you took from me.
I knew where you lived.
I had been watching.
There was no moon or street lamps to light the empty street. I preferred it that way.
I dragged their bodies with me, one over my shoulder, one by the ankle.
I walked. I don’t know how long I walked. Blood stopped its trail long before I was done walking. Even outside, white noise threatened to consume me. It followed me, like a curse. A never ending fog. A damned plague . It made me violent. Murderous. The only thing that lifted that dreaded fog...
Was the thought of your neck snapping under my hands.
It was my mantra in my skull. My rhythm to walk to. My song to sing to.
It played in my mind, banishing the white noise like how a flashlight attempts to expel the shadows. It replayed as I stalked through darkness. It replayed as I approached your house. It replayed as I kicked down your back door.
Your home was silent. It was still.
I stalked through your home, listening closely for a heart beat.
You weren’t home. Would you ever return home? Maybe. Maybe not. I would make you.
I dropped the bodies on the ground with a heavy thud. A small clatter drew my attention. It was a thin phone. I saw how you utilized yours. The screen wouldn’t react to my metal and fabric fingers... but it did react to the lifeless body’s.
It was easy enough to understand, the little pictures acting like roadway signs for navigating the device. I found the address book. Looking for your name was useless. I broke your phone. I couldn’t find your name anyway. But then I saw theirs. Your coward of a friend. I knew who you were with.
I pressed the night guard’s name with the body’s finger. The phone rang once, twice-
“ Hello? ”
“ P̴u̵t̸ ̵t̸h̷e̵m̷ ̵o̵n̷ ̵t̵h̷e̴ ̷p̶h̷o̶n̶e̸.̶ ”
“... Wh.. Who is-? ”
“ P̴u̵t̸ ̵t̸h̷e̵m̷ ̵o̵n̷ ̵t̵h̷e̴ ̷p̶h̷o̶n̶e̸.̶ ”
There was silence. Then, shuffling on the other end. More silence. The silence was an eternity.
And then, “... Bonnie.” Your voice. Popping and fizzing sounds with wheezing pants oozed from my voicebox. Bonnie’s metal bones charged like a live wire with excitement. Down, boy...
“ C̷o̷m̸e̴ ̶h̷o̶m̸e̴,̸ ̴c̸a̶r̵r̵o̵t̸.̸ ”
I snapped the phone in my hand. I didn’t need to threaten you. The fact that I was here—the fact that I called for you was threat enough.
You, the traitor, would get what you deserved.
You deserved... a party .
> ([PARTY MODE] = active) = Yes/No?
You like parties, don’t you Bonnie? Let’s throw a party for our favored guest .
> Yes.
> [PARTY MODE] = active
The door opened.
You returned. Of course, you did. You had to.
You were afraid. I could tell by how you lingered in the doorway. Would you try to run? No. You were too damn curious for that, weren’t you, traitor ? It wouldn’t matter if you did, anyway.
The door closed behind you, sealing away the last bits of sunlight.
Anticipation sent sweet electricity spiralling through my fingertips. Bonnie childishly itched to grab you and make you move faster. I could tell by how my metal sang in excitement. Bonnie loved surprise parties.
Each step you took out of my sight was tantalizing torture. But I was very good at being patient .
Your eyes locked onto mine. You dropped your bag.
Fear. Horror. Disgust. It all passed your expression in an instant. It was euphoria.
The party must’ve been some of my best work, despite how little I had to work with. Streamers... party hats... paper used as confetti ... and blood painted on every surface. The walls, the floor, the table —ribs cracked open, spilling viscera onto party platters; throats messily slit in a pretty necklace of flesh gone purple , decorated with a pearl of bone . You’d wear a necklace of purple too, traitor, since you didn’t like the choker I gave you.
“ W̵e̷l̴c̸o̷m̷e̴ ̸h̵o̸m̴e̷,̶ ̸t̶r̶a̵i̸t̸o̷r̸ .̷ ”
Your body shook. Your eyes trembled. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from my handiwork. I couldn’t blame you. How lucky you were that you got to witness the art of a master. No... not just witness. You’d be a part of it.
You turned around and vomited into a potted plant. Gross.
I stood up, and you cowered against the wall behind you in fear, tears pinpricked at your trembling eyes. Oh, how delicious it was to see you like this, traitor. No more games. No more bargains. You would finally taste what you were fated to the moment you got your hands on me.
Endless, all-consuming white noise.
“Why-!” Your voice cracked in your fear when I took a step closer, and that brought a pleasing shiver up my spine. Your tearful gaze burned into me, hatred and anger and desperation all mixing in a captivating cocktail. Finally, the liar loses their mask. “ Why did you come back?! ”
A laugh like dogs dying in a woodchipper spilled from my cracking voicebox. How delightful! You were fighting back! “ Y̵o̷u̷ ̷h̸a̴d̴ ̸t̶o̸ ̶s̴e̴e̴ ̸t̵h̸i̴s̷ ̸c̸o̶m̶i̸n̵g̵.̵ ” The irony was as sweet as frosting and twice as wonderful.
“I-I-!” Your pupils fluttered, trying to tear away from my handiwork. “I fixed you! I came back-! ”
“ Y̸o̵u̷ ̴h̷a̷d̸ ̸t̵o̸, ” Each step I took toward you escalated your tantalizing fear. “ W̶e̵l̶l̴ ̵d̶o̴n̸e̷,̸ ̴t̶r̴a̶i̴t̷o̴r̴.̵ ”
“I did everything right!” You practically screamed at me, and I loved seeing you desperate and maddened. “I did everything right! I-I-! I fixed you! I helped you! I was perfect! I even sent you back to that damned place so you could-!”
I slammed my fist down on the party table, and you flinched. “ Y̴o̶u̶ ̴w̷e̸r̴e̶ ̴ M̶I̴N̵E̵ .̶ ̵Y̷o̷u̶ ̴a̷r̷e̴ ̵m̸i̸n̷e̷.̸ S̷o̷f̷t̶ ̶t̵o̸u̵c̴h̶e̸s̵ ̷a̵n̷d̵ ̶ f̴i̴x̷e̵d̴ ̵p̷a̸r̵t̸s̸ ̵d̵i̶d̴ ̶n̵o̵t̷ ̷f̴r̸e̶e̸ ̴y̵o̶u̷ ̷f̴r̸o̷m̴ ̴m̵e̵,̴ ̶ t̸r̵a̴i̵t̷o̸r̸ .̴ ”
You stuttered in your stupor. Did you really not realize you belonged to me? How that irked me. I made you say it! Obliviousness gives way to stupidity. I twitched in my madness. Even now—even as your life was in my hands—you stood dumbfounded at your own betrayal.
“Well-!” You spat, your voice cracking again in your fear and frustration. “I-I wouldn’t have sent you away if I knew you grew attached- !”
I grabbed your throat and slammed you into the wall, and you choked on your words. Your eyes dilated, seeing stars. I felt your tears spill onto my hands and the feeling fed my hunger. I almost enjoyed this more than if you never betrayed me at all.
Your suffering was karmic retribution. You deserved this. You deserved to see your demise in the making. You deserved to have every lie stripped from you until you were laid raw in front of me. I wouldn’t be quick about it. I would take my time. I would prolong your suffering until you were too numb to feel—until the white noise consumed you before even death could. It was only fair. In fact, it was more than fair. I wouldn’t abandon you like you abandoned me. I would stay with you until you took your last breath.
Angry tears spilled from your eyes so filled with vitriol. Your attention was rapt with me. Mesmerized, traitor? I knew the feeling. “ All that work-! After everything I did-! After coming back! You’re still going to kill me?!” You snapped at me through gritted teeth.
The fact that you felt even a fraction of my betrayal, just a small piece of my rage, satisfied me like savoring decadence after famine. Did you like the taste of treason, traitor ? Did you enjoy all your “ hard work ” being thrown down the drain by my hands? Would you sing my praises when I’d break your body like you broke my trust? I’d make sure you would. I took no small amount of pleasure in saying, “ Y̵e̵s̵.̵ ”
Knock-knock-knock-knock
Both our heads snapped to your front door. When we looked back at each other, I saw the horror in your face, the absolute terrible dread that consumed you. Delight shuddered through me. You feared what I hoped.
That could be your coward of a friend. Oh, this was perfect. This was perfect! The night guard, the one I should have killed a week ago! Your despair would be my wine—No, it would be the whole damn meal ! I could taste the pleas and begs and sobs that would drip from your lying tongue
I. Needed. It.
I let go of you.
You shook under my gaze, and I found it endearing , despite myself... Even when you didn’t speak, your deceiving tongue attempted to seduce me... You stumbled to the door as the knocking became more insistent. You looked through the peephole in your door, before ducking down and cursing to yourself. Would you try to run with them? How exciting...
You grabbed a coat on the rack next to you and zipped it up to your chin. Then, you opened the door just a crack and positioned your body in the doorway.
“...Good morning, officers.”
... Disappointing. I felt ash on my tongue. My head twitched. Whatever. It would still be fun watching the hope leave your eyes when I snapped their spines .
The voices from beyond my sight asked your name, and you confirmed it. “...Is everything alright? We heard yelling.”
“It’s fine,” Lies spilled from your tongue as easily as breath, but... why lie to them now? “I was just fighting with my boyfriend.”
... Boyfriend? Stupid.
“Alright... We’re investigating the disappearances of these two men.”
They offered you something, and you took it, “I know these guys.” My two party guests. “They were supposed to pick up a project I’ve been working on for the local attraction...”
“We are aware. Did you see them last night?”
You shook your head, “They never stopped by.”
... Oh, carrot . How pitiful it was to watch you sabotage yourself; to watch you dig your own grave—to watch you bury yourself deeper into my clutches. Nobody must’ve taught you good children don’t lie. How... pathetically charming. Maybe you were smarter than you let on. Maybe you knew they didn’t stand a chance against me.
“What happened to them?” You asked.
There was a tense bit of silence, before one of the voices said, “Their truck crashed a few miles down the road. Neither of them clocked into work this morning.”
“Good lord...” You sounded genuinely breathless, but I knew better. “I... I hope you find them.”
“Thank you for your time.”
You closed the door. You turned around, leaning against it. You didn’t even blink, staring at the floor.
Your shaking hands came to your face. Your breathing was heavy. You couldn’t hide from me—behind your fingers. I saw how your mask melted into horror . Tears dropped from your trembling eyes, leaking between your fingers. Was it the gravity of what you had done, or the fate that awaited you that terrified you? I found it endlessly entertaining how I was ruining you. I loved seeing you cry into your hands.
“ P̷o̸o̴r̷,̵ ̴c̴a̷r̵r̶o̶t̷.̸ ” I tilted my head, mocking and sweet. “ S̷e̶n̴t̸ ̴a̸w̶a̴y̶ ̷y̶o̴u̵r̴ ̷o̴n̶l̸y̴ ̵p̵r̵o̸t̶e̴c̵t̷i̸o̵n̶.̵ ̵W̵h̴a̵t̶ ̷w̸i̷l̵l̷ ̶y̸o̵u̸ ̴d̶o̸ ̵n̵o̵w̵?̵ ” They were no protection—the very thought was laughable. I only said so to make you despair.
Something cold washed over you. Not anger. Not like how I liked. This was numbness . Your eyes stopped shaking. Your trembling lip came to a neutral line. You didn’t stop crying, but the tears dropped like they didn’t come from you. Detachment. I remembered how you detached yourself from me when I threatened you. This was that .
Curious. Did you mean to protect yourself from me?
You steeled yourself on your legs as you pushed yourself up from against the door. You walked passed me as if I didn’t exist. You walked into the kitchen. You took a knife. The same knife I would’ve killed you with the first night you had me.
...Surely, you weren’t that stupid.
And yet, you still didn’t regard me. I tilted my head to the side, heavy ears leaning. You went straight to the party room. You stood next to my party guests. Even as impassivity consumed you, I saw your throat bob. You took a deep breath in.
Then you brought the knife down with a sick crack.
Old blood splattered across your face. You didn’t flinch. You severed his hand.
Then, with another crack, his forearm.
You had to put your weight on the knife to sever his arm from his shoulder.
Piece by piece, you cleaved my party guest apart.
You... you thought you were going to survive this. You thought I would spare you. After your betrayal, you thought I would let you come back? You thought that if you crawled to me, blood on your hands and lies on your tongue, that I would forgive you? You thought you could make yourself my accomplice?
Your knife slammed hard against the back of the guest’s neck, severing his head from his body, and finishing the work I had started. Blood pooled in a way I found mesmerizing. Your eyes barely saw what was in front of you.
You couldn’t appreciate the work you were doing. You couldn’t even see the art you were making. Every cleave, every bone snapping was wasted on your lack of vision. It was insulting. It was tactless. It was disgusting.
I couldn’t look away, not even to hurt you.
I always liked watching you work, but this . This was my work. You were clumsy. Inexperienced . I was fascinated watching you stumble your way through my domain, even in numbness. Blood didn’t paint the table and floors, it pooled across it—the difference between a master painter and a child knocking over a paint can. How endearingly stupid that you thought you could use violence as an art, as I do. If you hadn’t betrayed me, I would’ve guided you correctly.
You retrieved trash bags from your kitchen and began stuffing them full with the pieces of my party guest. Tasteless. All that work just to put him into a bag. He should be hung up on strings, a terrible and wonderful garland.
Your knees were coated in blood when you stood up. My treacherous decayed heart skipped a beat.
You began my work on my other party guest. Piece by piece. Cleave by sever. Snap by crunch. You cut him into movable, tacky pieces. Your eyes were more lifeless than mine. I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. Even as I was transfixed with you enacting my work, I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. This didn’t... upset me as it used to. Instead, it felt a necessary sacrifice for my work you were doing.
A slam of your knife and my party guest’s head rolled off the table. You went to pick it up, but you didn’t. Your fingers stopped right as you were to grab him. You began to shake. I couldn’t see your eyes. You set the knife down and moved to the kitchen.
I knew it. You didn’t have what it takes. You didn’t have the nerve . The vision. You were weak . You were shaking as you leaned over your countertop. How lovely you looked, blood splattering your cheeks, your chest, your hands. It made me dizzy looking at you. Your head was lowered, shadowing your expression. You were turned away from me.
This was perfect . Despair bled from you like honey. You even made it easy for me to hide. Technician Gone Insane: Lone technician violently dismembers two innocents before killing themselves. All that was left was to decide how to do it. I could string you up, hang you from your precious hiding place? I could shove you in the oven and turn the heat all the way up? I could take your hands, wrap them around your blade, and make you stab yourself in the heart again and again and again and again— how romantic...
I couldn’t resist milking every last drop of despair, fear, and agony from you. “ A̷l̵l̵ ̶t̷h̵a̶t̴ ̷w̴o̵r̷k̴,̶ ̶a̷n̵d̸ ̷n̵o̵w̶ ̷y̵o̴u̶ ̵g̶i̵v̸e̶ ̸u̴p̵,̵ ” I slammed my hands on either side of you on the counter, and you flinched. I saw tear droplets fall by your shaking fists. “ Y̶o̴u̵ ̸a̶r̷e̷ ̷p̴a̴t̵h̷e̵t̸i̵c̴.̶ ”
Something warm touched my hand and my eyes snapped to it mechanically. Your shaking pinky was sheepishly probed at the casing of my fingers. Your head was lowered in sweet defeat, still refusing to turn and face me. This... This wasn’t a last attempt at deceit... I knew what your deceit tasted like. It was too sweet, too perfect. You weren’t direct in your touch like before, you were shy. Defeated. Shameful. This was the tenderness of something else...
I pulled away from you and you flinched, your fist closing in bitter rejection .
Oh.
Oh.
This was... need!
My head spun. I was delirious! How fitting . How excruciating! Intoxicating! Arousing! It was perfect! You needed me! You needed to touch me! You needed me, and it was real! You had a small taste of the white noise that plagued me, and now you needed my touch! Like all the times I needed yours! I felt so dizzy I was sick. My gears felt hot against my flesh, friction rubbed to sparks. My head twitched intensely. It was too perfect. It was too perfect. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyes!
“ Y̴o̴u̶.̵.̸.̷ ” My breath choked like smoke. Maybe my gears were actually smoking... “ N̴e̵e̸d̴ ̷m̴y̶ ̷c̷o̸m̸f̴o̵r̵t̸?̵ ”
> execute command ([COMFORT) = Yes/No?
> No.
A strangled pitiful noise left your throat, and your head bobbed slightly. How cute... Not good enough.
“ B̴e̷g̴.̵ ”
You trembled harder . Poor pitiful carrot. Forced to seek out the predator you fear for comfort , all because of the crushing weight of your ache . Your weakness was a... powerful aphrodisiac... I needed to hear your want . I needed to hear the sensitive truth spill from your lying tongue.
“...Please...” Your voice was quiet, barely heard under the whirring of my machinery. “...Please, touch me.”
Ecstasy shuddered through me. I was delirious. Of course you would need me, you were mine . It felt too good , it hurt . There was always pain , but I would willingly drown in this pain because you. Were. Mine.
It couldn’t have been any clearer. You came when I called. You carried out my work. You followed my commands. You wanted my touch. How naive you were... not realizing you were mine; thinking I would just let you leave. A crime of ignorance, not malice. I could forgive ignorance... I did tend to spoil my favorites, afterall...
> execute command ([COMFORT) = Yes/No?
Bonnie was a live wire, humming with electricity to comfort you. Silly rabbit wasn’t programmed to taste true delight.
>No.
“ N̴o̴.̷ ”
Seeing you shudder under the weight of rejection was more heavenly than any sweet touch I could offer you. Breath left you in a pained gasp. You caved in on yourself, tears dropping against your shaking fists. How deserving! How perfectly fitting. Oh, karma felt good . Or was this revenge? Whatever it was, I delighted in the sweet pleasure of it.
And then you went cold again. Did rejection hurt too much, carrot? Did you need to protect yourself? I would love to watch you fall. Like putting on a cloak of indifference, you straightened. You swabbed at your tears with your palm, but when you turned I saw they still spilled down your cheeks through eyes of stone. You ducked under my arm and I didn’t stop you.
You continued my work lifelessly. More robot than I, you cut my party guest into pieces, bit by bit. You were slow, but consistent. You didn’t stop. Old blood pooled in a lovely maroon lake at your feet that you couldn’t see—couldn’t cherish. I cherished it for you. You put him piece by piece into ugly trash bags as well.
I thought you would stop there. You didn’t. You began to clean. You monotonously tore down my masterpiece with all the passion of a pet rock. You ripped down streamers, threw out party hats, and scooped up confetti and entrails before throwing it all away in a plastic bag. Bonnie was more upset about this than I was, buzzing with code to offer you a slice of cake or to sing a birthday song before it was too late. I didn’t let him. I only watched you. I revelled in his anguish.
After you tore down the decorations, you used towels to soak the excess blood. You bagged those too. When the blood was simply paint, you took a sponge and a soapy bucket and started to scrub. You scrubbed the floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the ceiling (where I got a little creative). You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed—you weren’t wearing gloves, your hands gloved in blood and soap. It was oddly satisfying watching you clean up after my fun. Hypnotizing, as it was everytime you work, but something about you cleaning what I ruined made it more... intimate. Even though your blank, emotionless state expressed no intimacy.
Intimate or not, your drudgery was castigation . Your sentence of “community service ” for leaving me. Your broken spirit was penance for even thinking you could leave me. Your rejection was punishment for not needing me sooner.
When there wasn’t a spot of blood left, you threw the bucket and sponge in another trash bag. You weren’t done. Took bleach and started scrubbing again. The floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the ceiling—even the sink you dumped out the soapy water in. You didn’t wear gloves. Your hands and fingers were chafed raw with chemical burns, but you moved as if you couldn’t feel it.
I liked your pain; your punishment. I knew I did... But something about that bothered me. I didn’t know why. I didn’t make any move to stop you, though.
It was night by the time the kitchen was spotless. You were caked in dried blood and soap. You took off your clothes emotionlessly, you gaze empty and distant. Your arms, your face, your knees were stained with maroon, making your unmarked skin look distinctly raw. It was a lovely look on you. You stuffed your clothes in a trash bag too.
You continued to ignore me as I followed you into your bathroom. You turned on the shower and stepped in. I hated the humidity... but I hated being alone more. I heard you scrubbing your body from beyond the shower curtain. I focused on that when rainy nights and shattered bodies haunted me. There wasn’t much steam. The shower wasn’t hot.
When you were done, you put on something simple and started to bleach the bathroom—anything you touched. The tub, the sink, the door, the outside of the trashbags. You dumped the rest of the bleach into the bag with your clothes.
Everything was clean. Everything was done. The only trace of my masterpiece was the broken, distant look in your eyes.
There was one question left. What would you do with the evidence?
You stood motionless, staring at the bags. Even with my distorted perception of time, I knew you were dissociating for an unusually long period. I didn’t mind, as long as I could watch you breathe.
You finally broke your silence, “Did you kill Cupcake?” You weren’t looking at me.
I slowly cocked my head to the side.
“My neighbor’s dog. Did you kill it?” Your voice was as dry as the desert and twice as lifeless.
The neighbor’s dog was named Cupcake? Ironic. “ Y̵e̴s̶.̶ ”
“Can I have its body?”
I didn’t say anything.
You breathed slowly. Purposefully. You were refusing to face the situation, keeping yourself distant. “If the animal is buried above the bodies, cadaver dogs will dig up the animal instead.”
I was more clever at hiding bodies than you. “ H̴e̶'̵s̵ ̵h̶i̷d̵i̸n̴g̶.̵ ̵L̸i̷k̷e̶ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̸d̴i̷d̶,̸ ̷c̶h̷e̴a̸t̸e̴r̶.̸ ”
Your gaze was completely empty. Disappointing, but expected. “I’ll find it.”
You didn’t move. You were deliberating. I know what you wanted to ask me. I was patient with you.
Finally— finally , you brought your lifeless eyes up to meet mine. Your voice was steady and cold as you spoke, “Will you let me leave to bury the bodies?”
There it was. The question that must’ve been looming over your neck as the guillotine closes in. You even managed to finally pay attention to me—you must’ve known I liked it.
I would’ve liked to tell you no. I would’ve liked seeing exhaustion wash over you more, realizing you needed to get more creative than throwing the trash bags in some hole you dug deep in the woods. I would’ve liked seeing whatever you decide not being good enough. The walls closing in. The despair choking you whole. Realizing there was only one way out: my blade.
And yet...
Despite your betrayal, despite myself, you had charmed me . You rotten little beast... Nothing had changed from the moment I set down your knife the first night you had me: I wanted your demise, but I needed you more. I could be patient. I always had to be patient.
You would return. I didn’t need to threaten you. Unless you wanted to clean up another set of bodies. How exciting would it be if you did want that...
I leaned forward towards you, and you remained unmoving, “ G̷i̷v̷e̸ ̸m̵e̴ ̷a̶ ̸g̴o̶o̸d̸b̸y̴e̸ ̶k̸i̷s̸s̴,̶ ̵c̴a̷r̴r̸o̶t̶.̵ ”
With all the passion of ice and the emotion of a stone, you held my jaw in a hand abused with chemical burns. You pressed your cold lips against my broken teeth, a gentle gesture dripping with domesticity and lifelessness. Even as Bonnie’s metal bones sang with delight, I knew this for what it truly was.
Proof that your autonomy was mine. You would return. Obliviousness gave way to stupidity, but stupidity can be rectified. You simply had to learn . Had you learned your lesson, carrot?
The emptiness in your eyes as you grabbed a bag filled with corpse pieces suggested you did.
It was just before morning when you returned. You looked pitiful: covered in dirt, shaking, and with lifeless eyes. I would’ve loved to leave you trembling and traumatized and rejected, but you took too long, and madness consumed my mind enough to override my sadistic desire to hurt you. You nearly collapsed in my arms when I offered my hand to you. Weakness at its most charming... You didn’t have what it took to be a killer, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t like competition, anyway.
I soothed you, even though you didn’t deserve it, because it soothed me in return. I didn’t draw circles over your bruised or burned flesh—my tendons chafed against metal rods even at the thought—but I held you close to me. I adored your vulnerability, I liked having your life in my hands. I held you close enough that I could hear your heartbeat... My lulling music box...
You breathed a heavy sigh against my metal collar. A thrill traveled up my spine.
You sat in my embrace until the sun peaked past your blinds bright enough to bother me. I thought you had fallen asleep. You spoke against my chest.
“Are you William Afton?” ...Somebody did their research. I felt your heartbeat against my chest. It was steady. I wished you were more afraid when asking me that.
“ Y̵e̵s̴.̸ ”
You didn’t move, waiting before you asked your next question. When you spoke again, your voice was steady, “Did you kill those kids in the 80s?”
I didn’t miss a beat, “ Y̵e̵s̴.̸ ”
I felt your breathing stop for just a moment. Other than that, you made no other movements.
“ D̶o̸e̴s̵ ̴t̵h̶a̵t̶ ̴b̷o̷t̴h̴e̶r̵ ̶y̸o̶u̶?̵ ”
“No.”
“ L̶i̵a̸r̷.̴ ” I was getting better at telling when you lie. That was fine, though. I preferred to unnerve you. And it was... strangely satisfying to be recognized for my handiwork. Not even Henry realized my craft, at least not soon enough. How suffocating it was to stay hidden...
You waited again before you asked your next question, “Are you going to kill again?”
“ Y̵e̵s̴.̸ ” I didn’t bother asking if that bothered you as well. I already knew it did.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“ S̵o̸m̸e̸d̶a̸y̸.̵ ”
I relished how you shivered in my arms at that. It made me hold you tighter.
“...They’re going to come for you.” You said, “The attraction. I can’t keep you forever.”
“ L̴e̶t̴ ̵t̵h̷e̸m̴ ̸t̷a̴k̵e̵ ̷m̶e̶.̶ ” I said. Killing human life again was... intoxicating . Invigorating. This body, despite its pain and decay, was strong . I needed more of that. And if I started murdering your neighbors, you’ll just be thrown in jail where I can’t touch you. The attraction on the other hand... it could be the perfect playground. Who could tell the difference between fake and real blood, anyway? “ Y̵o̴u̵ ̷w̶i̵l̸l̴ ̵t̵e̸l̸l̷ ̶t̵h̷e̷m̴ ̶I̶ ̶n̷e̷e̵d̸ ̵d̵a̶i̷l̵y̷ ̷m̵a̷i̶n̴t̷e̸n̶a̴n̶c̷e̵.̴ ̸W̷h̸e̷n̷ ̷I̵’̴m̷ ̸n̶o̵t̷ ̵t̴h̷e̶i̵r̵s̵,̸ ̵I̶’̸m̴ ̸y̶o̶u̵r̸s̷.̵ ”
I didn’t expect resistance from you, but I did expect to see your hope crushed into despair. I wanted to see you deflate in the realization that you’d never be free of me; to crumble under the weight of being mine, resigning yourself further in my grasp. You didn’t. “Alright.” You simply said.
“ C̵o̸m̸p̸l̴a̷c̷e̴n̵c̴y̶ ̶l̸o̷o̵k̴s̴ ̴g̷o̴o̶d̴ ̵o̷n̴ ̸y̴o̸u̸,̷ ̷c̵a̸r̵r̷o̶t̵.̷ ” I said, though I didn’t mean it. I only wanted to provoke you.
It didn’t work, “Whatever it takes to keep ‘someday’ from not being today.”
So you wanted to sell yourself to me for your survival? I accept.
I... liked you.
I wasn’t delusional. Despite your trauma-driven need for my touch last night, I knew your heart wasn’t mine, not in hatred or love, and that tugged at me. However, I was pacified with owning your autonomy. For now. I’m sure I could make your heart mine in time...
“ A̶s̶ ̴l̸o̷n̶g̵ ̶a̶s̸ ̶y̶o̵u̶ ̶a̸r̶e̶ ̷u̶s̸e̵f̶u̵l̸ ̵a̶n̵d̴ ̴a̴m̷u̶s̵e̶ ̴m̵e̷,̴ ” My voice box cracked and popped with static as I interlocked my rotting fingers with yours. “ I̶'̵l̷l̵ ̵k̴e̷e̵p̷ ̴y̵o̵u̴.̴ ”
Your hand was dead in mine, not reacting to my touch in a way that ached my rotting heart. “Then I’ll be useful and amuse you.”
> Execute([KISS])
> executing command = [KISS]
I pressed my teeth against your cheek in a mock kiss, which you were numb to. As long as you were mine, it was enough.