My Little Flower

Chapter three; Playing With Knives

/Caution, any further chapter may contain acts of rape situations and scenarios. Also may be few triggers, such as memories from characters childhood; sexual, physical, mental abuse. You have been warned. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics. Because throughout the rest of the book, this content will follow through./

(January 7th, Sunday, 2017, 1:48 AM)

The visits had been getting worse, the touching, groping, squeezing. He's teases me by playing games in my head. Showing me what he wanted to really do to me.

"Just leave me alone!"
I screamed as I sat in the corner of my room and held a knife in my hands as I sobbed. "Please! Please..."
I begged and sniffled. I cried as I gripped the butt of the knife in my sweaty hands, feeling my knuckles go white from how tight I was gripping it.

"Something about your voice makes me want to degrade you even more. So you should shut your slutty little mouth before I stick something in it..."
I heard him growl. I could tell where he was in the room, the closet. I gripped the knife tighter to myself. Then I heard them again, the soft foot steps as I hid in the corner of my room with the knife still tightly held in my hands.
"Mmm... I can fucking smell you... This turns you on? Does it make your little pussy throb?"
Just his voice made me horny, but I was deathly terrified at the same time.

"Fuck off! Y-you Aren't real at all! Y-you're just in my mind!" I screamed and covered my ears, rocking myself back and forth in place. "What's wrong? Are you remembering me now?"
He rasped at me venomously. "Stop!" I yelled and panted as I started to cry rocking back and forth.

Narrator's POV;

The creature that was bashing her head full of terrible thoughts, squatted down in front of her, legs open slight as he looked her body up and down various times. "You can't honestly say that I don't turn you on... You're quite the sick little thing..."
He chuckled and grabbed her chin and she swings the knife at him, viciously growling as she tried to impale him, but the knife went right through him. Sadly she had swung to hard, her plan had back fired completely. She stabbed herself in the arm, screaming in pain as the knife went through her arm and stuck into the wall, tearing at her skin which ever way she moved. "Aw, look at that. Big girl cut herself. Don't you know that these knives are only for the kitchen. You're pathetic."
He chuckled and shook his head gently, taking his finger and putting it against the butt of the knife and flicking, causing a shriek to escape her mouth again as the knife bounced up and down in her flesh. "Mmm.. Just seeing you in slight pain makes my cock twitch."
He chuckled and now grabbed the butt of the knife and quickly pulled it out of her arm, brutally fast. "Fuck!"
She screamed and cried as her arm started to bleed very heavily. The man stood from his squatting position and went over, sitting on her bed and turning on the night stand table, holding the bloody knife in his pale grey hands with a large smirk on his white face. He stared and watched as he let the blood drip down on his knuckles as he grasped it gently. "Hey, do you remember when you were eight years old?"
He asked getting no response as she still panted and touched her ripped open arm. "I do... I remember seven days after your birthday... What your dad did to you.. He had quite the thirst, and your mother just wasn't doing it for him anymore."

He cackled gently. "And you look just like her, yet younger, more fresh, like an unpicked little daisy compared to a dry limp and saggy appearance of an sad old sunflower... Most men would have picked you over your mother is what I'm trying to say..."

He chuckled again. He was completely insane, repulsing with words, and harsh on the eyes, but still beautiful in all of his darkness. He looked at the knife and stuck his long forked tongue out, licking up and down the blade. "(Blood type), fucking perfect... Right balance of iron and sugar, especially for all of the alcohol you consume."