swine | ☆

● chapter 0. ○

TWs: violence, gore, mention of rape and drugs (doesn't actually happen, just mentioned). Read with caution and please feel free to skip if you feel like you need to.

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I felt excitement, of all emotions, course through my veins as I stepped through the damp hallways, chasing slowly after the broken, exhausted panting. I couldn't make fun of her. She was in pretty poor condition.

"Come on," I spoke, the words not loud but just enough to echo along the hallow walls, decorated with uncomfortable wallpaper and questionable red and maroon stains. Drips of red splattered the blue carpet, lighter, fresher, than the ones coloring the walls. "You can't ignore me forever, babe."

"Fuck you!" Came the weak, but loud, retort, something that was likely impulsive but still meant all the while. I rolled my eyes mentally. This girl had a spunk to her that I enjoyed the thought of breaking before it began to become a burden.

I couldn't say her reaction was not justified though. My words were simply hers, except hers were directed at a different person, and meant something different entirely.

The joy of the kill always diminished when I started to think about the poor boy, my poor boy, that most of my victims tried to taint with their dirty fingers. I grimaced, the urge to kill growing a bit stronger.

I could hear Chleo's groans and grunts as she swayed into walls, off balance and unable to regain it if she wanted to keep the pace she was going at. It was probably difficult for her to breathe. The air quality wasn't that great down here.

It didn't take me long to catch up to her, even at my slow, teasing pace. The one I used to torment my victims. To give them the illusion that they had a chance.

Is this just a game to you?!

The question rang in my skull, a memory from one outraged victim who suffered a very long fate because of how pissed he made me.

Yeah.

Chleo was trying to keep her pace, but she was wobbling too much. Eventually, she collapsed, turning herself around as well as she could to back away from me. The feeble attempt would be cute if I didn't hate this bitch.

"Get away from me, you freak! Why are you doing this?!" Chleo shouted, her voice gravelly and thin. She kept trying to stand, never quite being able to get her shaky arms to cooperate.

It was entertaining to me how confidently she yelled at me. Her signs of fear were only physical, in the way her body shook, but, then again, that could be from the blood loss.

I was going to kill her quick and easy just minutes ago with a few stabs to the stomach, but she kicked me in the nuts and ran after the first stab to her abdomen.

But now — now I had her.

I pulled out a butcher knife. Not sure of the specifics, since I stole it from The Peacock. That movement seemed to knock her down a few pegs, her eyes widening slightly.

Chleo's palm twisted on the ground and hoisted her up, turning to make a run for it, but I grabbed her and pushed her down to the ground. I didn't give her the chance to fix herself when I stomped on her knee, a chilling shriek leaving the woman when the bone snapped.

Tears fell to the floor, the pain intense, no doubt. Especially when she was still struggling to stay, despite her injuries. Her determination to escape was really admirable.

"Wh- what did I do?!" She screamed, her voice hoarse and raw, "please, what did I do?! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please-! Let me go! I- I'll do anything!"

I crouched over her, leaning my arm on my knee and resting my chin on my knuckles, pondering something.

"Hmm.. well, you piss me off quite a lot, it's pretty easy to understand the fact you have to pay for that, right?" I smiled underneath the mask. Chleo sobbed.

"And the way you treat L/n.. it's infuriating. Poor thing. I heard your little speech about having your way with him, whether he consented or not." I muttered, keeping a cheery, thoughtful tone despite my anger at the memory.

"That's what this is about?!" Chleo looked shocked, before she quickly put on a pained grin, "that was just a joke! Haha! Uhm, you know me and Y/n, always, uh, j- joking around like that, hah.."

I was thoroughly unimpressed by the statement. Nor was I convinced. I raised the knife again —

"W- wait! Wait! If it's Y/n you want, I- I have rohypnol, I- I can help you get him! We're- we're close, he'll trust me. It'll be easy to fuck him like tha-!"

Chleo's fast, nervous words were cut off by another one of her screams as I hit her broken leg with the blade of the weapon I held.

"Mhm, really? And why do you think I'd do that?" I asked, not seriously expecting an answer. Even the thought of doing what she offered disgusted me. Rape was the one thing every single one of my gang members absolutely refused to do.

"I wouldn't put it past a murderer to be a rapist!" Chleo spat the response like expired milk, her eyes narrowing. I flipped her over and grabbed the back of her golden blonde hair, before smashing her head into the floor.

It was strange to me how quickly she could go from afraid to angry.

"Stupid whore. I'm not that horrible." I mutter, still stuck on the suggestion to rape my dearest.

Her cries continue as I repeat my earlier motion again and again, never too hard, but at one point I hold her head up a bit longer than usual, and, while she's still screaming, I pull out a long, sharper knife and hold it in her mouth, hovering above her tongue.

I was getting a bit sick of her screaming.

The next time I shove her head down, the knife pierces the back of her throat, and when I lift her head again, with a bit of trouble due to her thrashing, I make a point of dragging the knife along her tongue and gums as I remove it.

Blood colors the carpet an ugly color, and I flip the now noiseless Chleo back onto her back. Her eyes are slightly foggy and her struggling is getting weaker, so I know she's about to give into death, or at least unconsciousness.

I rake the knife down her chest and torso, splitting the flesh apart and revealing her innards. I'll gift them to The Peacock later, as an apology for stealing his knife.

When she stops moving completely except for a few small twitches, I sigh and lay back, directly on top of her split and bloody body, giving my thighs a rest from staying in that crouching position for so long. I don't mind the blood seeping into the back of my clothes.

I hum as I pull out my phone, unlocking it and grinning at the missed messages from The Peacock about his knife. I ignore those and move to open my camera app. No, not the camera app. The camera app.

The camera-in-my-beloved's-apartment app.

Through the low quality of the camera, I can make out the gist of what he's doing. He's laying in bed, scrolling through his phone. It was a Sunday, after all, a day he was free from work and school.

I'll rewind the footage to make sure he was okay all day once he goes to sleep, I think, sitting up and almost tripping on Chleo's ankles when I stood.

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