I Don't Like This Game

A long hallway quaintly lit with warm yellow light complements the cream-colored wallpaper. Soft thuds follow delicate footsteps pressing down on the soft woolen carpet. A slim figure moves at a steady pace with slight swishing from the red and white polka dot dress against the ground. Finally stopping in front of a door, similar to the rest of the whitewashed wooden doors lining the hallway. Her left hand reaches to turn the brass knob.

The openning door reveals a well-lit bedroom. She walks towards the antique dresser and puts on a record. Stringed orchestral music fill the space. Looking into the mirror, she corrects a curl of her blonde hair. She then checks her makeup. A slim oval face, fair and smooth accentuated by slight pink blush. She powders her delicate button nose. Lips slightly smudged which she corrects with a peach-colored lipstick. Looking behind her shoulder, an imposing figure lay silent on her posted bed. She carefully makes her way towards it. The figure lays sprawled wide on the bed, facing upward. A man of about 30 years, short brown hair and slightly unshaven.

The female figure climbs onto the bed, sits atop the man and slaps him across the face. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she says with a sweet smile.

The man groggily stirs and finds himself staring up at this beautiful creature. His face still searing. He tries to speak but find his speech muffled. He reaches at his mouth. Bits of thick thread has sewn them shut. Peach lipstick smudging the edges. The man struggles in desperation. The female figure pulls an overhanging rope hard, and the man's limbs are jerked hard towards the four corners of the bed. Then ties the rope securely against one of the posts.

"Shhhh...honey, be silent now." She reaches under the bed and pulls out a small kitchen knife. The knife's blunt edge runs along the buttons of the man's white cotton shirt. She pulls the buttons out one a time revealing his strong chest and abdominals.

"Let's play doctor. This time I will be the doctor. You can be the patient." She kisses the man softly on his sewn lips and flashes a sweet smile. The man thrashes from side to side trying to break free. To no avail.

She presses the side of the knife on his face. Cold steel runs a shiver across his body. She slowly tracks from his face down to his neck and finally reaching the center of his chest. Now turning the knife on its tip, the pointed edge presses against the man's chest. She softly pokes him, him with wide eyes staring at her and the knife. She slowly applies more pressure, holding the knife with both her dainty hands. Gradually laying her whole body weight, the knife slowly plunges into the man's chest. Dark red blood splurges on the polka dot dress. The man gives out a muffled cry.

"Something is wrong with your heart." She then drags the knife to the right, carving out the left chest cavity and leaves the knife stuck. Holding the edge of the chest piece, forcing it open. There lay the beating heart, pumping hard. She puts her left hand over the heart and grips firmly. The man breathes excessively with nostrils flaring trying to get more air. She starts to slice through the arteries connected to the heart, one by one. More blood oozes with every severed artery.

With the last artery cut, wide vacant eyes stare back at her. She pulls out the heart and throws it into the metal bin.

"There, all fixed."

 Flipping herself beside the body and letting out a great sigh of contentment. With the record still playing, she drifts into slumber. Bedtime.