My Psychotic Lover (A Yandere Story)

Chapter 8: Avril the Crafty

Avril's P.O.V

Absolute rage engulfs my being as I angrily stomp down the creaky, worn out, blood-stained stairs. Once at their bottom, I take a deep breath, inhaling the pleasantly, relaxing stench of metallic before flipping the light switch. The lights flicker on and off as my wide, furious eyes land on a petrified Philip and a painfully smirking Dan. My lips form into a frown, knowing that Dan is going try to suck out all of my fun by making light of the situation.

In a comically, slimy, villainous tone, Dan greets me, "Ay Philip, look! Our master has returned. What do you wish of us?"

My harsh gaze turns to Philip, waiting for him to try and disrespect me like before I broke him again. His eyes cast downward, away from mine as I turn to glare at Dan while seething, "I would advise you to cease this role playing game at once because I am NOT in the mood."

Dan seems to brush my comment aside as he proceeds to tilt his head to the side, innocently while asking in the continued, henchman-like tone, "AND why would that be master?"

I feel the slight shaking of my hand as his voice continues to annoy my ears, and the next thing I know, it has moved on it's own. In a flash, there lay a shadow of a red handprint on his cheeks. I didn't register what I had done until I hear Dan's cry of pain which I savor as an electrifying jolt temporary surges through me, up to my broadening grin.

Philip's head snaps up and tries to careen toward his friend, but fails due to the rope that binds him. He struggles for a bit before directing his head toward me. Philip snarls, "What do you want with us, master? Why do you even still keep us here?" I could hear panic and distress in his voice as tears begin to well up behind his eyelids, "It was only suppose to be a joke! We-"

"Well I didn't find it very funny," I snap, raising my hand and curling it into a fist, ready to hit something for real when I decide against it. Wait... Stop... Remember you need them for just a little bit longer.

My arms drop to my back and entangle together, like a bashful girl confessing to her crush, and my entire face softens as a well-hidden, fake smile forms. "Actually... what I came down here for was to set you both free." I pause waiting for my words to settle in which results in both of their faces contorting from shocked, confused, to relief in the span of a few seconds. Before their thoughts of freedom could get too carried away, I cutely giggle before proceeding in my demands, "But firrrst... you have to assist me in one more endeavor in my mission to change to win my Teddy Bear's heart because those imbeciles at school aren't any help."

They nod their heads enthusiastically like kids ready and impatiently waiting to receive their gifts. I giggle once more before my voice sharply drops from warm to cold, "But let me tell you this," I slither up to where the back of their chairs meet together and slam their noggins into each other. At that point, a grin, sharing way too much teeth, beams at them, "I only accept failure twice sooooo fail me again, and you will be rewarded with a different kind of freedom. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

Their eyes widen, but they continue to excitedly shake their heads in agreement before replying in unison, "Yes, boss!"

I lowly hum a tune into the empty, dimly lit basement that reeks of my two favorite fragrances: death and metallic. They both mix and twist together into an aroma that I find relaxing while I paint a flawless portrait of my love from memory and with the blood of some dispensable helpers. After completing a stroke, I pause for a moment, attempting to recall and refresh the image of Teddy's face once more, but instead remembering the fun I had last night.

I have frequently been seeing a classmate named, Mona, staying for long periods of time after school, in the art room. Once I devised a plan on how I was going to change to fulfil my love's wishes, I knew I needed supplies for this special project. And where else would be be the perfect place to get them than the art room, and to ask for assistance from a clingy art student...