Anything

From Creepypasta Test
Jump to: navigation, search

In the end, I think that we'd do anything for someone we love.


Anything.



When you came to me, eyes filled with tears, barely containing your sadness, I knew that something was wrong. Your tears only served to make you more beautiful, in a bittersweet kind of way. I held you and kissed you, and you still cried, something was wrong.



I opened my mouth and asked “What happened?”



You had said “It doesn't matter.” You seem to fancy dodgy answers like those, answers that evade the problem at hand, although I know why; partly because you feel that no one cares, partly because you know that I do care.



After a while of prying, you finally told me that one of your “friends” insulted you. Of course, of all the people that could hurt you, it happened to be someone that called themselves your friend. I simply said “I'll handle this, love.” before giving you a kiss and setting out to do my work.



I had made sure to equip myself with the proper tools, first, though. Tranquilizer guns, a grapple hook, a flash-bang grenade, some knives, and a glass cutter. I knew that I wouldn't need most of these, but it's better to have something and not need it, than need it and not have it.



I stalked my prey all night, that bitch and her boyfriend would pay for this. I finally followed her to an apartment, on the other side of town; it was one of those brick buildings, about 10 stories high, and most of the windows were unlit at this hour. She walked inside the lobby, I just waited for her to turn on the light in her apartment, so I would know which one is hers.



The bitch had turned on her light, I waited a few moments, and I leaped into the window, smashing it. I quickly surveyed the surroundings; this place looked new, the brown carpet was in pristine condition, the walls were clean, there was a perfectly good dark green couch in the middle the room, and a brown coffee table in front of it, although, the coffee table had some sort of narcotic on it that I didn't bother touching. Just after observing everything else, noticed that I had landed on the bitch's boyfriend. Good, I thought to myself, this saves me the trouble of having to find him. I checked him for a pulse: he was unconscious, just what I need.



She was rushing out of another room when I shot her with the tranquilizer gun; she passed out on the floor, as one would expect. The bitch and her boyfriend awoke in a damp, dark, cold room, just before I walked in with the tools for this particular job: knives, a bone-saw, a meat hook, gloves, a scalpel, a large wood-chipper, and a pot of hot coals. I got on my gloves, to leave no fingerprints.



The first thing I did, was open the bitch's boyfriend's chest up, just barely enough for my meat cleaver to fit in the incision; I am no doctor, so I botched the process a few times, but he was trying to be a man and not scream.. Oh well, those crooked cuts won't matter where he's going. I put my cleaver inside the incision and began to slice down,at this point he was screaming at such a high pitch, you'd think that I'd chopped his testicles off. The cleaver stopped halfway down his the first time, so I had to bring it up, then slam it down with a little more muscle. It feels kind of like cutting raw chicken, until I hit the bone, then I have to get the bone-saw out.



He's still screaming, thank god this room is soundproofed, or he'd wake all the neighbors. How rude of him. I took out the diamond tipped bone-saw, and said to him “Do you know how expensive this is? And to think, it's going to be covered in your blood soon. Tsk, tsk.” He screamed some more, and I went and sliced his pelvis bone in two; he fell unconscious because of the pain.



The next thing to do, was to take his intestines out, and use the meat hook to force open the mouth of the bitch. I stabbed it into the top of her mouth, and pulled it up to force her jaw open, and then I took her boyfriend's intestines, and squeezed them until his rancid fecal matter left the slimy tube and entered her mouth. She, of course, screamed and gagged and choked; one should expect such a reaction.



While she was gagging on her boyfriend's shit, I took the pot of hot coals, and put one of my knives in it to heat; when it was heated, I slashed her face with it, and then I stabbed her in the belly. She died, then, sooner than I'd have liked. Oh well, time to dump the bodies.



I put them into the wood-chipper, which ground them fairly easily, though, I'm sure that I'll have to clean some blood and gore and bone bits out of it later. I took the mulched corpses of the bitch and her boyfriend, and dumped them into a gutter, near a spot where a drug dealer usually hangs out. The mulched up corpses were found by construction workers a week later, and, after DNA testing confirmed that they were human, a full-scale murder investigation took place. The official story was that they were killed like this because of a drug deal gone bad; they did have narcotics in their apartment, after all.



When I saw that news report, I was holding you, I gave you a kiss and you asked “Would you do anything for me?”



I said “Yes, of course, love.”



“Anything?”



“Anything.”