The door squeaks open sounding like a dying parrot that's slowly getting smashed between two solid surfaces. I stiffly turn my gaze to her to get a glance, but immediately let my head hang down effortlessly in front of me.

It's when her footsteps become louder as she comes closer, is when I notice the disturbing extra weight added to her well-known steps that I look up with questionable eyes glued to her figure.

She carries a box, seemingly as old sounding as the house itself. It looks heavy but she carries it with ease; well she does how gorilla strength since she is one.

It combines a harmony of different kinds of materials crashing together as she sets it down a few feet in front of me; Having a creaking sound after it was rested down like it wanted to fall apart any minute.

I can hear her moving around different metals in the box as if she was searching for something specific, but it's too dark for me to tell what she pulls out.

It's only when the light flickers on that I see the reflection of the blade quickly death glaring at me. The terror rises in me like a thermometer measuring into lava when she creeps closer, adrenaline of being horrified giving my sore body strength.

She squats down dead in front of me, her hand reaches out gradually to touch my cheek and I attempt to move my nonexistent feeling hand to push hers away.

It doesn't move.

Her cold, arid hands make contact with my heated skin from my heart beating a mile a minute. I go to my second self defense, stiffening the muscles in my leg as I try and bring it up to kick her away.

They stay still.

Now a cold sweat clings onto my body when I realize my legs are bound to the floor and my arms are chained to the wall. This isn't like all the other times before.

Her crunchy thumb strokes my cheek as she glides her hand on my jawline my chin, possibly scratching the tip with her crispy, chilly palm.

"Who'd would've know you'd follow in your fathers footsteps," she says with so much love mixed into her tone that you'd never imagine it was during a situation like this.

"What do u mea- AHHHHHH," the scream to erupted from my throat rings and echoes around the room. She glides the blade across my lower arm without flinching to do it; the blade burning me like hell.

Did she fvcking dip it in an active volcano or something?!

"Have you gone....crazy," Is all that can come out of my gritted teeth in shorten breathes as I try to cope with the stinging feeling in my arm.

"You know your father said something like that to me in this exact situation." Saying it like how people form their words when they fake a consequence.

"He threatened to leave me. So I made him stay with me forever."

"What are you talking about," I breathe out. "Didn't he leave to go with some other woman."

"He was going to do that." She glides the blade against my skin again, not batting an eye at her actions, and another shriek escapes my lips with little grunts following after.

"But what do you think I am. A pushover?
Around our anniversary he starting staying out later than usual. Even though he kept denying it and saying that the reason he wasn't their was to work extra shift to by me something for our anniversary, I still don't believe him. He probably went to play around with some b!tch. He had the nerves to even pull out this diamond necklace and said this is what I've been working towards.

Her story makes no sense. It really doesn't sound like he wanted to leave her.

"So since it was our anniversary, I was the only one that did something romantic. I made sure that we'll be together forever, and made him part of the house."

"What do you mean by that," I ask cautiously, her responding with a false slit of her throat. "You're joking right."

"No. His blood is here to prove it, just look below you. It seeped into the concrete. And I kept his heart next to my bed, so he'll always be next to me."

I look down at the scattered stains with a pool of it where I sit. I've been living in this room for so long, and I have noticed the stains in it, but I would've never thought it was something so gruesome. . Now I know, and I feel like vomiting, nauseous by the thought of who's blood is going to dry on top of it.

"So your going to bleed into the floor too, that way you'll never leave me," She injects needle with connected tubes into the elbow joints of my arm effortlessly, turning some kind of machine on and the blood slowly draining out of my body like a blood pack being used. I grunt at the feeling of it sucking out my blood like a straw.

"Doing it the first time took so much effort, this way is less stressful."

All I can think about now is that I should've stayed with Jimin. Is my emotions really gonna be the reason I get killed? And the killer twisted thinking the cause?

"What the fvck is wrong with you," I spat out for a second, going a little crazy myself because I just yelled at a person with a knife in their hand that's intended to kill me.

"Should I slit your throat for talking to me that way." She doesn't hesitate with the threat, bring the heated blade close to my neck that I can feel the warmth emitting off of it.

"Just why are you doing this to me," I ramble out in a panic frenzy, some of my words catching in my throat like a fishing net.

"ARE YOU FVCKING DEAF YOU SH!TTY BRAT," she abruptly yells in my face like a mad woman, pulling the blade away and dragging her hand through her hair stressed; after breathing out harshly trying to calm herself down by mumbling like a lunatic.

"So you won't leave me like he almost did."

That One Summer 《 Vmin 》Where stories live. Discover now