short stories

giver

the knife teased my cold bare skin, smokey air invading my lungs as i hitched my breathes sweating immensely. i couldn't help but smile wide, my face hurt from the tension of such an expression, dimples present on my torn and messy face. with that i could not wait anymore and neither could she

i traced a shallow rectangle into my thigh, bubbles of crimson fluid patching in certain places, my skin irritated from the outlining of a plan. the pain was nothing, rather there was none at all, only the heat of the moment, crouched in the alley way nearby her church and home.

once the outline was clear, the thrilling experience unfolded. i brought the knife along the lines of red, this time allowing myself to finally pressure down into the skin and agape the thigh of its shield. my breathing paced, i could feel my heart in my throat, sweat forming on my exposed skin. i continued the motion, evening out the depths of this carving, once the rectangle was far well defined i brought the knife at a shaving angle, horizontal to one side of the shape. i trimmed the edges with the blade of the large knife, blood already trimming my socks and denim shorts. once lined up, i carefully yet eagerly, shuffled the knife under the lining to scoop up the patch of skin, making absolute sure that enough fat and tissue was being removed.

it was exhilarating, my hands trembling but gripping ever so more, the darkened alley causing the perspective to change when a vehicles headlights skimmed past, never to see this scene, only to help out the giver. i felt every nerve that got sliced into, my skin seemingly numb at this point, but i longed for that thrill, that sting and sickening feeling. i hurried up the process, messily removing the somewhat rectangular patch of flesh, i lifted a corner and pulled it from my thigh, some remaining nerves and tissue held on as if they were pleading. but they didnt understand how vital this patch of skin was, it would let me see her again, and she was the sole purpose of my mere being.

the remaining nerves were messily separated from the section of selected skin, the patch finally removed and there remained a carved out thigh. blood was covering her whole leg, soaking up in the shorts that sat on the cold pavement, that patch of skin in her left hand and the tool in the other. she was so thrilled and excited, she had to go try this out now, now. now. right now.

with that she exchanged looks with her gaping wound, the different layering and uneven cutting quite unpleasant in her standards, but nonetheless she'd clean it up later anyway. the skin in her palm felt heavy, the sections of diverse muscles, tissue, nerves, and fat, all decorated with the bloody coating. it felt so thrilling, her heart couldn't take it, beating at such speeds, breathes hitching.

focus.

she needed to focus.

now focus.