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I wonder if they have fun watching me.
Knowing that the paranoia is eating me alive and giving me anxiety must be their oxygen because I got another message. No words this time. Just one small thing.
It triggered so many painful memories for me, and it shook me at my core.
A remote.
Not just any remote. The remote.
The same one my nurses used to up the dial on the electrocution machine. I know it's the same one because my bloodstains are still there.
I remember how my nose and ears used to bleed when it got too much for me. The way I would cough up blood because my lungs gave out after hours of screaming stays with me.
When I picked up the remote, it was almost like I could feel the jolts of electricity coursing through my body again, shattering my bones and ripping my flesh.
The memories of that kind of pain are etched in my brain and they should be incentive enough for me to complete my mission and kill Lilith, but I can't. I don't know if I love her, because I don't know that love is something someone like me is capable of, but I do know that I care for her. That small amount of affection I feel for my little devil is enough to make me willing to go through all of the torture again if it means that she's alive.
Lilith isn't here right now, and I miss her.
I miss her smell, her soft skin, her smile, her voice.
I could always- No I shouldn't, that's weird.
Fuck it, I invented weird.
I head to her room and as soon as I open the door, the smell of vanilla and shea butter hits my nose. I inhale to soak it all in, imagining she was here hugging me instead of just her scent.
I look around her room, seeing the pile of clothes on her bed from when she was picking out her outfit earlier. Her panties in the corner of the room catch my attention and I go to them. I bring them against my nose, taking in her pussy's sweet aroma before shoving them in my pocket.
Fuck, she's perfect.
I've come to realize that Lilith is clean-ish, but she's the cleanest when she's killing or when it comes to public areas. The kitchen, living room, and bathroom are all spotless, yet her room is anything but.
The urge to make Lilith happy when she comes back to a clean room overtakes my body, and I start to fix everything up. I put them all on hangers and maybe it's the OCD kicking in, but I arrange them all by color.
As I'm about to put them all in her closet, I trip on one of her shoes and fall forward, hitting the back wall of the closet with my wrist. The hollow sound that follows catches my attention because it should not be there.
