His Obsession

13: pity party



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Author's Note: This chapter will soon be under revision to make it more immersive and gory.

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Ryder's POV:

"Ready for the real fun"

...

Holding the screwdriver in my hand, I told Layla to watch. I used my free hand to open his eye lids, popped the screwdriver under his eyeball, making a circular motion then titling the metal part, severing the optic nerve. The eyeball came out, making a wet popping sound, then rolled on the cement floor. I bent down to pick it up before rinsing it and tossing it in a fresh jar.

I walked back over to Layla, telling her it's her turn. She didn't seem to even be processing what was going on, which I didn't like. I wanted her to be fully present but seeing as this was her first time, I wasn't going to push her.

I put the screwdriver in her hand, watching as she repeated my actions perfectly, ending in the wet popping sound that I loved. I picked that eyeball up, and repeated the process from before.

I was getting tired of hearing him whimper. Somehow, he was still alive and fully conscious. I had a way to fix that.

"My turn to pick." I said.

I go back to the table, grabbing a new tool.

Walking back over, I place it in his mouth, making sure it's as wide open as it can go, before grabbing his tongue and stretching it out.

"Grab that knife and cut it off." I tell her.

She gently picks the knife up, looking confused as to what to do.

It's not that difficult. You just cut it off. How is that hard to understand?

I sigh, feeling frustrated but again trying to remind myself it's her first time and she will eventually get used to this and perfect her own methods.

"Here. You hold the tongue. I'll cut." I say before grabbing the knife from her.

She does as told, and I stab into the center of his tongue, slicing down until his tongue resembles a snake tongue. No reason to not have some fun before fully cutting it off.

Blood starts pouring from his mouth, soaking mine and Layla's hands, as I reach the knife as far as it will go, slicing off the two chunks of tongue. They fall to the ground making a wet smack.

I kick them to the side, and wipe my hands on my pants.

Layla is still standing there with her hand in the same position as if she was still holding the tongue.

I think this may be the moment I finally truly broke her. Which is honestly perfect. Now she will begin being molded into who I wanted her to be.

The perfect wife.

I grab her hand, lowering it, and wiping them on my pants as well.