FicWad

When Paulina awoke, she found that her tears had crystallized on her lashes, making her lids stick together with the sand of sleep. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes, managing to rub enough out that she could open her eyes. Sitting up, the girl realized that she was back in her room in the mansion, Al hopping around on the floor. She ran her hand through her hair, which still hung to her waist in thick, black strands. She stood and stretched, listening to her joints crack in protest at the sudden movement.

She didn’t remember the dream she’d been having, but she felt a little disappointed that she’d woken up. On the other hand, she thought, running her hand through her hair again, it was nice to still have all her hair. As she walked out of her room, Paulina vaguely noticed that she’d fallen asleep in her clothes. She let her feet carry her to the staircase, not really knowing where she was headed. In the large, arching window above the stairs, she saw that it was still dark out, the sky an ominous, inky black.

Once in the kitchen, the girl heard footsteps on the stairs, knowing that there was someone in the house that wasn’t far behind herself.

“Oh, Paulina,” came a familiar voice. The girl felt as though her insides had been doused with ice water. Gerard. She panicked, looking around the kitchen.

She didn’t know where to go that he couldn’t find or follow. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as the sensation of being trapped in a corner washed over her, the vulnerability making her heart race. In her worry, she bumped into the table, feeling something inside her own jeans collide with her backbone. She reached behind herself, pulling the knife out of the waistband and letting it rest in her palm. She’d put it in her jeans earlier to protect herself. From what, she wasn’t certain, but now seemed like a good time for protection. She held the knife behind her back once more, but didn’t tuck it back into her jeans.

“Hello, Gerard,” she said shakily when he walked in. He was wearing a white button-up, white slacks, and white socks. Looking closely, Paulina even noticed a loosely done white tie.

“I’ve just been thinking about you all day, Paulina,” Gerard growled in a throaty voice. He advanced slowly, his gaze on Paulina’s, teeth loosely gripping one side of his lower lip.

“Oh?” Paulina said, her hold on the knife tightening to keep her hands from trembling. Gerard didn’t answer, just kept moving forward until he was face to face with the small girl. He seemed to loom so much taller than usual. Paulina gulped when he reached up and placed his hands on her upper-arms. He leaned down, and just managed to connect their lips before Paulina squirmed away, the backs of her thighs hitting the edge of the kitchen table. “Stop!” she said vehemently. Gerard just chuckled and grabbed her jaw in one hand, holding it tightly and forcing another kiss on her. She began to claw at his arms and face with her free hand. He just chuckled again.

“You know I like it when you hurt me, baby.”

It happened quickly, and yet seemed almost surreally slowed down. The knife came out from behind her back, and, without much of a thought, Paulina plunged it right into Gerard’s abdomen. A tingle shot through Paulina’s hands. She felt some kind of sexual satisfaction as she gripped the handle tightly in her fist and twisted the blade slowly, listening to Gerard’s pleading moans, muffled groans. The sensation of warm, sticky blood coating her hands caused Paulina to bite her lip in an attempt to suppress a venomous grin. It was like melted butter, smooth and creamy, flowing like melted chocolate.

Gerard didn’t even scream. “Oh,” was all he could gasp out, a pained look on his face, his usual cocky grin, for once, gone.

“Gerard,” Paulina murmured, pulling the knife out and shoving back in between his ribs, feeling his left lung puncture, like a needle into a pincushion. “I thought you liked it when I hurt you, baby?” The blade retreated from the sheath of Gerard’s body once more, hovering in front of the convulsing body before the man collapsed to his knees, then fell back onto the floor. He was coughing up blood. It just kept coming; from his mouth, from his nose, from his wounds. The sight of it perpetuated the erotic charge that Paulina felt tingling in her body. She dropped to her knees beside him, a small splash from when her shins landed in a pool of deep, crimson blood. She giggled, her teeth digging into her lower lip.

Paulina attacked again. This time, it was random, swift, shallow. She just wanted to see more blood. Cut after cut, more and more blood filled her vision, splashing her clothes, her face, her hair. She could taste the metallic tang of fresh blood, smirking when she saw it laced between Gerard’s teeth, knowing hers probably looked the same way.

The man’s shirt was no longer white, but crimson. His pants were almost black, so soaked they were with blood. His bloodied socks were hanging half-off his bloodied feet. Gouges everywhere showed his defeat: his abdomen, his sides, his legs, his arms, his ribs, his throat, everywhere.

Gripping the shaft, Paulina raised her arms above her head, taking a deep, excited breath before allowing the penultimate swoop to fall, the blade piercing through the center of Gerard’s chest, shattering his sternum, that oh-so stable and precious bone, designed specifically to protect the one thing every body needed for life: the heart. She yanked the knife out and plunged again, the final attack, feeling the tip slide right through the broken bone and into the one most vital organ. The blood gushed, heavier than ever, and Paulina could feel the weakening heartbeat resonate through the knife, making it pulse and twitch in her palm. Moments passed, and the blade stilled, and Paulina knew that Gerard’s heart had finally ceased to beat.

Paulina withdrew the blade slowly, relishing the squeaking sound of wet, bloody flesh trying to keep it from retracting.

The girl examined Gerard’s face, frozen forever in a look of suffering pain, smiling gently at the blood that was already congealing in patches across the flesh. She used the back of her hand to clear a swatch of skin on the forehead. Lifting her hair, now stringy and congealed with blood that was not her own, out of her face, Paulina lowered her head and placed her lips against the white, pallid, dead skin. When she pulled away, the only blemish on that little bit of his face a clearly-defined, bloody kiss.

“Paulina?” Frank. His voice echoed from another room. Paulina stood, replacing the knife into the waistband of her jeans, following the man’s voice back towards the staircase, where he was standing, also dressed all in white. “Paulina? Are you alright?”

“Of course!” Paulina called cheerfully, approaching him and throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a swift peck on the lips.

“You’re soaked,” he remarked, placing his hands on her waist and holding her at arm’s length to examine her.

“Just had a little accident,” Paulina replied, winking coquettishly. Frank looked at her for a moment without saying anything.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Paulina nodded. “Good.” he murmured, pulling her into a hug and kissing her on the mouth again. Paulina smirked into the kiss.

The taste of blood had faded from her tongue, and she found herself craving for more.

Carefully, she reached back into her waistband, removing the sticky, stained blade. Slowly, she raised it behind Frank, her hand trembling with excitement and yearning. She took a deep breath and let it drop, exhaling sharply when the tip of the blade slid through the flesh, directly into Frank’s spine.

“Oh,” Frank gasped, identically to Gerard. This time, however, Paulina gleaned no sexual or erotic pleasure from her victim’s anguish. Instead, she felt fear. Terror caught in her throat, and Paulina lifted the blade out just far enough so she could drop it, the wooden handle clattering calamitously to the floor.

Frank fell forward onto Paulina, and she caught him, allowing him to fall to the floor as gently as she could manage. Her mouth hung open without remedy. She didn’t know what to do. Where the knife had cut, there was a huge gaping hole in the shirt, but not a drop of blood. He remained flawless and white, yet still fatally wounded by the single stab.

Paulina turned him over so that he was on his back and kneeled beside him, so that his head could rest in her lap. He was coughing, but again, no blood. Clean coughs, strained, but clean.

“Frank,” Paulina whimpered, feeling as though it had been her heart that she’d stabbed back in the kitchen instead of Gerard’s. She felt like she was breaking all over. “I’m so, so sorry. Please.”

“Paulina,” he managed to rasp between choked coughs. “Paulina, I…I--” He coughed. “I lov--”

“No!” Paulina shot up, her eyes gaping in fear and disbelief. Her heart raced, her limbs shook, and cold, clammy sweat coated her entire body. “No!” she yelled again, looking around the plane, disoriented. She was back. She ran her hands through her hair, which was back to being pixie-cut. She looked at her hands. They were small, and clean, and white. They weren’t stained with blood or death…murder. She whipped around and looked at a very startled Frank, whose lap her head had been resting in while she slept.

“What’s the matter, love?” Frank asked, worried, his palm caressing her cheek and wiping away the nervous sweat.

“You--you--it can’t--” Paulina couldn’t articulate her thoughts; she was so overwhelmed by a mixture of guilt and relief.

“Shh,” Frank said, rubbing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb in slow, circular motions. “It was just a dream. We’re here, now.” Paulina nodded, allowing herself to be led towards the exit by Frank.

She only wished she knew where “here” was.

Hey all. So...this was completely unplanned, but I did it for two reasons: you all deserve it for being so cool about the super-short update after such a long wait. Also, I got the idea for this this morning in English, and I was just like "YES. THE SYMBOLISM. SO MUCH OF IT!" So yeah. I figured a little substance never hurt no one. So...what did you think? kind of intense, eh? I thought so, but you enjoyed it, you sickos. Of course, I have no room to judge: I wrote it. So...yeah. Someone start a discussion in the comments about the symbolism, because it would be a shame for it to be lost because of inattentive readers. So...yeah. Next update shouldn't take too long, as I have lots of spare time now, because the musical's over. So...yeah. Go comment, rate, and subscribe, plz. Thanks. OverAndOutxx