Torturous

Colorful Poems

Author's Note:

Not gonna lie, this chapter is pretty crazy and holds intense gore, so just prepare yourself for that.

~Enjoy, my beautiful victims~

•Y/N: Your Name

Author's POV:

The sound of rushing water fills a quaint house at the end of a culdesac as the clear liquid splashes down on a pile of dishes. A pretty woman stands at the sink, her messy, blonde hair held up in a bun with some strands hanging down to frame her face. Thick, black lashes cause her lovely, pale blue eyes to pop on her fair-skinned face, while a soft shade of pink lipstick coats her lips. She cleans the dishes one at a time at a leisurely pace while being weary not to bump her extended belly into the counter. The woman is four months pregnant and very cautious.

It'll be her first child, after all. She wants nothing to happen to them. A soft thud catches her attention, causing the blonde to peer over her shoulder. She shrugs it off as nothing, for the sound was so quiet that it could've been her imagination. A few moments pass before it happens again only, this time, the noise was louder. A shadow races past the kitchen before the woman turns around. Brows scrunched in confusion, the blonde turns the knob to stop the flow of water and waits for the sound, but the house is still. Not even a creak.

"Michael, is that you?" She calls for her husband, only to be given nothing but silence. With her heart thumping nervously, she reaches for one of the freshly cleaned knives. The sharp blade drips water onto the tiled floor as she holds it with a shaking hand. With cautious steps, she peers out into the hallway in search of the cause of the sound that resembles footsteps. A soft hum escapes her lips when she sees nothing. Lowering her knife, the woman takes a step back to return to her task only to gasp when a cold blade is pressed against her throat. Before she could lift her own weapon, a strong hand grips her arm, rendering it immobile

"Boo."

Instinctively, her hand struggles against the stranger's firm grip in attempts to stab him, but it's too tight. The intruder squeezes the woman's wrist harder, bruising the delicate flesh and forcing her to drop the knife. The object clinks upon hitting the hardwood floor as her arm is pulled behind her back.

"W-who are you?" She asks, frightened of the blade at her throat.

"Officer Michael Hampton, that's your husband, right?" The stranger asks while looking down at the blonde's ring finger, which holds a wedding band on it.

"Why-" before she could complete her question, the arm behind her back is bent further up as a warning. He could break it with ease if he wanted to.

"Answer the question," he demands in a low growl that sends an unpleasant tingle down her spine.

"Y-yes. Now, please, l-let me go. My baby-"

"Is the least of your problems." A psychotic laugh escapes the male's lips as his grin widens beneath his scarf.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

"You've been in love, right? That's why you married." Chuckling darkly, he brings the tip of his blade down her throat to the center of her stomach, filling the woman with dread. Tears form in her blue orbs as she trembles in his grasp. "Then, you know why I must do this. It's to keep my flower safe, so that I can love her without having to worry about filthy pigs getting in my way." Upper lip twitching in disgust, the killer plunges the knife into her belly. A piercing scream escapes her lips, but it gets muffled by the man's gloved hand. The cloth reeks of old blood.