Ink

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic


Whenever someone is murdered, the victims' name appears somewhere on the killer.

Submitted: November 09, 2017

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Submitted: November 09, 2017

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Our lips crashed together with the force of many suns. I could feel her warmth radiating against me. It almost seemed like a dream. Her hair was the physical representation of soft in its most natural and raw form. After what felt like a thousand years, I felt her begin to pull away from the kiss, and I followed suit. “Today was quite lovely with you, my sweet.” She admitted, speaking in her smooth as honey voice. “Yes, it was. You looked stunning in that little dress. Anyways, it has been a long day, and I do believe it’s time for you to get back to your humble abode, Brooklynn.” I spoke gently, and I smiled softly at her. She blushed at the use of her whole name, and reached her arm over and opened the door of the vehicle. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” She exclaimed while slowly getting out of the car. She closed it behind her, and I smiled as she proceeded to her car, and eventually got in after fumbling with her keys for a moment. 

Pulling into my driveway, I sighed. I almost hated coming home every day, but I had to keep my mask glued tight. I shifted into park and reached behind my steering wheel to fetch my keys. I fumbled for a moment before twisting and pulling my keys out, and I slipped them into my pocket. I opened the door of my car and reached over to the passenger side seat and retrieved my suitcase. I made a slight adjustment to my suit after I had gotten out of the car, and I looked at myself in a mirror I had stored in my briefcase. Nothing too unsatisfactory, I suppose. I took a sharp breath just before I opened the door to my house. “Ah, who the hell locks the door at 5:43?!” I mumbled into my head as I had to set down my briefcase and reach into my pocket for my keys. As I pulled my keys out, I heard the door quickly unlock and open. I silently sighed to myself and slid my keys back into my pocket. I picked up my briefcase, and I could see my wife, Amber, standing there with a half smile. “Hey, sugarbun.” She said, in a tone that annoyed me. My face contorted for a moment. “Mask,” I thought too and even mentally chastised myself for the slight mistake I had made. I slapped the fakest smile on my face possible and wrapped my arms around her in a pretty half-assed hug. “I missed you.” I lied. I pulled away from the hug and placed my briefcase down against the wall, trying not to show my irritation towards everything she does. I undid my tie and threw it into my room as I passed by it, and walked my way into the kitchen, with Amber following close behind me. She had seemed more quiet than usual. “So, Brooklynn, huh?” She said in her god awful accent. My heart began to race, and my head was combing thousands of different possible excuses. As I made my way into the kitchen, there were black and white pictures of a few of the places me and Brooklynn had “met up” at, and she had them all over the table and counters. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t hurt at all, more surprised that she had even suspected anything. I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath and turned around, only to be met with a slap to the face, and for Amber’s nails to be embedded deep into my face. Now, THAT hurt. My face stung as she became increasingly teary-eyed. I kicked her to the ground roughly, covering my face with one hand as I knelt down and seen her crying now. “Yeah, Brooklynn. The lady that is superior to you in each, and every physically possible way. Dirty filth, you are.” I started to release my anger on her. Punch after punch, tears, and blood mixing in a senseless fit of rage and testosterone. After a few minutes, I got up. I went to rinse off my hands and change into new clothes. Realizing how amateurish she had clawed my face, I went to the bathroom to get some alcohol to pour onto my wounds. I did what was necessary and eventually bandaged my face. With the rage and emotions flowing through my body, I started to walk and attempt to leave the house. I walked by Amber, seeing her blood stain the floor, I laughed. She was sitting there, crying and murmuring unintelligible things. I stepped over her body and walked to the front door, opened it, walked down the pavement and got into my car and left. 

I had all four windows of my car down, going as fast as I legally could down the freeway. The wind felt good on my skin, which felt as hot as volcanic ash. Eventually, I began to cool down, but I didn’t know what to do. I decided to drive to Brooklyn's house. I couldn’t stay here. I messaged her on our secret accounts, and we met on the block of her street. I told her what happened, and that I needed to leave. She said she couldn’t go with me, and that… That hurt. I begged her, but she said she had doubted our relationship for a long time and finally felt it was time for her to be loyal to her boyfriend. “... Are you sure, Brooke?” I choked out while trying not to let any more emotions flood my weakend body. “Yes, Jason. I’m sure. I’m sorry…” She looked into my eyes as I said it, and I realized she was trying to be happy in a better way. I let her go and decided to drive to a hotel a few miles away under a different name. As I was laying down, I felt a stinging heat across my chest. It grew hotter and hotter until I was forced out of my bed and ran to the bathroom while I clawed my shirt off. I stared at the mirror in awe, as it read Amber in a crimson red metallic color. “I… I didn’t kill her! She was alive when I left her! This is a mistake…” I whispered into the palms of my hand as I slid down against the cold tiles of the bathroom. “ No… No. This has to be a terrible nightmare… My life has become a nightmare.” I insisted to myself, and I thought I’d go to bed, and it would all be over. I ran over to my bed and covered myself up, and fell quickly asleep.

I woke up in a haze of blurriness and confusion. I pulled my covers off my bed, and I nearly cried at the sight of the tauntingly blood colored words. My god… I had killed her. I beat her to death. I’m… I’m a murderer. I couldn’t believe it. My body ached. I could hear the pulsing of my veins. Unexpected tears began flowing down my face. I reached my right arm up to wipe some tears off of my face and quickly realized another name inked into my arm. 

Junior.

The letters seemed to glow. All around me, the air sizzled with electricity. My skin grew hotter and hotter as the sudden realization dawned on me. I brought my left arm over and felt the letters, tracing my fingers over each of the letters. Amber had always told me that she wanted to name her first child Junior.


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