SlasherVictim
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2016
- Messages
- 38
- Location
- North America
A cool autumn breeze fills your nostrils as you drop to your knees. The cold forest floor gives a resounding crunch as you drop down and slowly unzip Landon’s pants and his already erect cock out of his boxers. You take it into your hand and slowly ease your tongue up the shaft, stopping at the tip.
You tease it a bit with your lips before taking it back into your mouth and sliding it as far as comfortably possible. He wraps his hands into your hair and you feel him shudder as he pushes deeper, shoving it further down your throat.
You momentarily gag, but take it. This is what you’ve wanted for a while, and you don’t want to ruin it by being a prude, so a little gagging isn’t that big of a deal. You close your eyes and lower your hand to his balls, lightly cupping and massaging them as you bob your head away, stopping at the tip to lightly suck, and moving back in with the hunger of a starving coyote.
His balls hang loose in your hand, and you tense in anticipation as he shoves his whole cock down your throat and holds your head in place. Over the course of several seconds he pumps his hot semen into your mouth, nearly choking you. You try to back away, but he holds you in place. You reflexively swallow, feeling each bit of his seed ooze down your throat, and he slowly slides his cock out of your mouth.
You try and catch your breath, ignoring your hard dick uncomfortably pressing against your jeans to the best of your ability. You roll off you knees and onto your ass. You know he won’t reciprocate, and it kills you. In attempt to get your mind off of just how horny you are, you decide to ask.
“So,” you say. “What is it you’re celebrating again?”
He reaches down, tucks his dick back into his pants, and zips them up. After he gives a quick, derisive snort, he answers. “I wanted you to meet me here because I literally just made 30 grand of these idiots for what was probably two, three hours of work total? I didn’t expect a bunch of old natives to be so gullible, but a quick buck is a quick buck, and after I heard about that bond scam that dude pulled on the Souix a couple years ago I figured I could just try it myself.”
You stand and brush the leaves and debris off of your pants. You can believe it. you’ve known a Native American, and it’s just the kind of thing you’d expect him to fall for. “Probably more greed than stupidity,” you say.
He shrugs. “Either way they fell for it. That's the important part.”
You laugh. “Yeah, tell them they’ll make some money down the line and they'll put their life savings on the line. That’s just like a-”
A quiet, male voice from behind you cuts you off. A voice you recognize. You freeze. “Just like a what?” he asks. “Just like a filthy, greedy savage? To risk everything they have in the faintest hope that they can get out of this shit-hole?”
You turn around to see a young looking native american man leaning against a tree. Instead of looking at you his eyes are trained on a hatchet that he idly flips in his hand. You take a couple of steps back, moving to Landon’s side.“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised from you, you fucking racist. Nice to see you haven’t changed at all since the last time I saw you.”
You swallow hard and briefly glance over at Landon. He cocks his eyebrow and glances back. “You know each other, then?” You slowly nod.
“Yeah we know each other,” the man says. “Me and him? We go back a bit, actually.” He sighs and looks up at the both of you. “My guess is that it wasn’t his idea though. He’s a racist prick, but I don’t actually think he’s smart enough to come up with a plan to fuck some poor gullible old native american man out of his life savings.” He stops flipping his hatchet and lets his arm fall to his side, standing up straight. “My guess,” he says. “Would be that the idea was yours-” he lifts the hatchet to point it at Landon before slowly moving it towards you. “But you just happened to know some people it might work on. That about sum it up?”
Landon chuckles. “I didn’t screw anyone outright. You think I forced them to buy those fake ass bonds? It barely even looked credible. That was their own stupidity, man.”
Taylor licks his lips and gives the hatchet another quick flip. His eyes are locked on Landons, and you notice the subtle rise and fall of Landon’s adam’s apple as he gulps. Slowly, Taylor takes a few steps towards you. “You know,” he says. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. To think that maybe you were taking orders from someone else, but the way you’re acting right now? That high and mighty bullshit?” Landon doesn’t move as Taylor slips the blade under his chin. “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like you think you’re better than me.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Now,” he says. “You have a twelve second head start. I’d suggest running.”
Landon lets out a loud, mirthless laugh. “Are you serious?” he says. “You’re threatening me? After I literally just proved I’m smarter than you or your idiot relatives? What the hell are you going to do? Kill me?”
Landon talking back gives you a little bit more confidence. You chuckle and nod your head. “With what’s basically a tomahawk, too. I thought you were trying to avoid being a stereotype. You might as well be using a bow and arrow or something.” Landon snorts, attempting to bite back a genuine laugh, but doesn’t agree or disagree.
An annoyed smile spreads across Taylor’s lips, and he bits his lip and nods. “Right. Right. Smarter.” Without warning he lifts the hatchet and hacks into Landon’s shoulder, cutting deep. You hear the loud crack of his collarbone, and he lets out a blood curdling scream. “But not smart enough to listen to the guy with the fucking axe, I guess. That’s ten.” Landon, in shock, turns to dart away, stumbles, and nearly falls. You catch him and shoot Taylor a brief glance before trying to pull Landon along with you.
He pulls himself back to his feet and you both shoot into the woods, ducking through trees and low hanging branches. He clutches his arm, and his blood soaks into your shirt as you try to lead him away. The wound is slowing him down. Without him you could move faster and probably get away.
You swallow. No. He’s your only friend. Probably the only person that ever seems to actually care. If you leave him behind you may as well die yourself. “Come on, man,” you say. “If we can make it to the car we can go to the damn police and sue. Just hang with me.”
Landon mumbles, limping along side you. He’s losing a lot of blood fast, and slowing down even more very second. You’ve only been running for a few seconds, but your lungs already burn. You can still hear Taylor counting down. “Five!” he yells, making sure you both hear. “Three!” No fucking way. Has he been skipping numbers this entire time?
You lift Landon’s arm over your neck and pick him up to the best of your ability, vainly hoping that you can move faster. The forest foliage seems to blend together. Where are you even headed, you wonder. Are you even running the right direction? “One!” You hear Taylor dart into the woods, and from the sound of it he’s catching up fast. In spite of your better judgement you glance over your shoulder.
Behind you, just through the trees, you see his silhouette flit through the woods like a spectre. He’s catching up to you, and he was catching up to you fast. Even with your head start, Landon is slowing you down too much to put any considerable distance between you. Even as fast as he’s closing in, though, you feel like he’s intentionally hanging back. Like he’s just fucking with you.
Just as quickly as you see him you lose sight of him. For a moment you’re filled with hope. Maybe he gave up. Maybe he didn’t want to take the risk of getting caught. He was a Native American, so the courts would probably believe he was just defending himself against Landon. As much as that idea disgusts you, it’s better than you both dying here in the woods.
As quickly as the hopeful glow buds it’s torn away from you. He leaps out of the brush like a coyote, wildly swinging the hatchet. You take Landon in your arms and turn away, shielding him to the best of your ability, and the hatchet bites deep into your back. Pain explodes throughout your whole body, and your legs go limp. Before you have a chance to move you crumple into a heap on top of Landon.
Taylor twists the hatchet free, and another wave courses through your body. You try to cry out for help, but your voice catches in your throat. No matter how hard you scream internally nothing comes out. Taylor steps around you and nudges your face with his boot, forcing you to look up at him. “Holy shit,” he says. “I knew you were a pussy but I didn’t expect you to go down that easy. That was, like, no fight at all. Damn, man, I thought your whiny ass could at least try and put up a fight.”
You want to tell him to fuck himself, but blood gurgles out of your mouth as you try to speak. He shrugs. “Oh well. I guess I can’t complain about it being too easy.” In a blur he lifts his boot and pounds it into your face. Your vision bursts into multicolored dots before fading away completely.
***
The slow, rhythmic whine of a blade grinding against stone pulls you from your blunt-trauma induced sleep. You try to open your eyes, but the bright light overhead stings, forcing you to shut them again. You’re uncomfortably aware of the congealing blood slathered around your lips, and you try to move to wipe it away. Something jangles around your wrists, and your arms catch behind your back. Handcuffs?
What the hell? You’re not dead? You groan and ease your eyes open, trying to give them a chance to adjust to the light. The first thing you see is Landon lying just across from you, motionless on the ground. The second, more important thing is Taylor, leaning back in a chair between the two of you. A long Bowie knife reflects the bright overhead fluorescents, and he slowly drags it across a whetstone. The sound you heard. As your eyes naturally follow from his hands to his face, your blood runs cold. He’s staring straight at you, smiling.
“Well shit. I didn’t think you were actually going to wake up,” he says. “Good to see you’re not totally done.” Your eyes involuntarily dart back to the knife before drifting back to his face. He glances to the knife, finally pulls it away from the whetstone, and looks back at you. “Intimidating, huh?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll be completely honest though. I’ve been sitting here doing this for about twenty minutes in hopes you’d wake up to me doing it.”
He flips the knife, catches it by the blade, and tosses it at you. It gives off a loud thunk as the blade jams deep into the wooden floor less than a foot away from you. You pull your legs in, trying to put distance between you and it.
“Honestly it’s just some cheap, shitty little $20 Wal-Mart garbage. Still looks damn scary though, huh?” He drops the chair back to the floor and stands up, brushing himself off. “Pretty damn sharp for cheap steel, too.” He steps up beside you and kneels down, wrapping his hand firmly around the handle. He gives it a quick twist and jerks it out of the wood. “But don’t take my word for it-” He stands up and walks over to Landon, kneels down, and grabs him by the hair. Your eyes lock onto the massive gash in his shoulder, and his previously light blue shirt is now drenched a dark red. “How ‘bout a demonstration?”
You scream as your fuzzy mind finally realizes what he’s about to do. “No!” you say, jerking against your chains. Your wrists ache, but you thrash anyway. Tears well up in your eyes. “Let him go, you sick fuck!” He cocks an eyebrow and stares at you, slowly bringing the knife to Landon’s exposed throat before pulling it away again. The fucker is taunting you. “Please!” you beg. “Just let him go.” your words come out in sobs, and you’re not entirely sure you actually make sense. You try anyway. “You can kill me. It was my idea. Every part of it. I read about it in a newspaper once and thought it could work! He just went along with it!”
Wet snot oozes from your nostrils, mixing with the blood caked onto your chin. “Please,” you say. “Please, please, I’ll do fucking anything.” He stops for a moment and seems to think it over.
“Anything?” he says. You nod.
“Fucking anything, man. I’ll pay you, I’ll humiliate myself, I’ll even eat your fucking ass if I have to. Please, just let him go.” He nods and drops Landon’s head, and you let out a relieved sob. “Thank you. Jesus fucking christ, thank you.” In one swift motion the world crumbles beneath you.
One single, deliberate swing. Time slows around you as you watch its path cut through the air, arcing like a lightly tossed ball. You can feel your wrists start to bleed as you fight against the handcuffs, but your struggle isn’t enough. The blade comes to a stop as it cleanly and effortlessly stabs straight through Landon’s neck and into the ground.
Landon’s eyes shoot open, and he tries to scream. All that comes out is a quiet hiss of air, followed by a cascade of blood. He digs at the knife, trying to force it out of his throat, but his weakened body can’t even begin to put up a fight against Taylor’s arm. As time creeps by his struggle slows and, finally, stops. His body falls limp, and you can swear you see the moment the light fades from his eyes. His cold, staring eyes.
Just like that, you give up. Your body falls to the ground, and suddenly nothing seems to matter. There isn’t anything left to fight for. He’s gone. Probably the only person you can actually say you even care about, even love, and he’s gone. Your jaw hangs slack, and you don’t bother looking up as Taylor walks up to your side.
“I know it wasn’t you, you fucking idiot. You’re not a leader. You’re the very definition of a follower. A whiny, useless, lost fucking follower at that.” He grabs your hair and jerks your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I’m just glad I got to see you broken before I killed you.” He pulls the blood covered knife back and thrusts it into your stomach. Pain shoots through you, into what feels like every nerve in your body. It doesn’t matter anymore. Suddenly, death doesn’t seem like it can come fast enough.
“I’ll just remind you of one thing before you’re completely gone. Consider it a small piece of wisdom.” He leans into you and twists the knife. “If you base your happiness on other people. If you don’t take it into your own hands. If you’re afraid to be a little selfish sometimes-” He slides the knife upwards, stopping as it hits your sternum. “You’re always going to be disappointed with how things turn out.”
He’s wrong. Every fiber of your being screams that the murderous, savage fuck is wrong. He has no clue what he’s talking about. How close you were to him. How much he mattered to you. Instead of arguing, you struggle against the handcuffs. The cold metal grinds against your raw flesh, sending a stinging wave up your wrists. You know you’re going to die. That’s already certain. The least you feel you can do is die by his side. Not by Taylor.
You hear something beside you. A laugh. Taylor is laughing at you. You’re not really surprised. He could have just killed you and taken his money back, but the sadistic fuck is still dragging this out even now. Something that does surprise you, however, is a quiet clink, and then the release of the tension on your wrists. You lift your trembling hands to your face to see the handcuffs dangling freely from your right hand. You swallow, look back up at Landon, and push yourself forward onto your stomach.
Your blood smears across the floor as you drag your screaming body over to Landon’s corpse, and for some reason Taylor actually steps out of your way. You think you can even hear him laughing behind you still. That doesn’t matter anymore. Inch by inch, you pull yourself across the concrete, expending the last of your energy to slide over to him. You grab onto Landon’s shirt, drag yourself the last few inches, and rest your tear and blood-soaked face on his back. Still warm.
Taylor says you’d be disappointed how things turn out. Really though? You’re not. You both deserved this. Something deep down in your gut tells you, and you can’t help agree. Sure, there are people you’d rather have done it than Taylor, but isn’t this some sense of justice for a racist con artist? You hadn’t pulled the con yourself, but it was you who led Landon to them in the first place, right?
No. You’re not disappointed. Something about this, about dying next to Landon for a mutually committed sin, feels right. Feels almost like justice. You close your eyes, take in one last, slow inhale of Landon’s scent, and slip away.
***
Taylor took a step back to admire his work, tucking his hands into his pockets. He tried to keep from grinning as he gazed upon the ludicrous sight, but he couldn’t. His lips split into a broad, toothy smile. Well, he thought, It’s probably exactly what the faggot would have wanted. Finally, completely giving in, he busted out into hearty laughter.
He lifted his hand to wipe a tear from his eye as he took one more long look at his creation. Landon stood straight, held up by metal pipes. The gaping wound in his throat had long since stopped bleeding, and the blood around it had congealed into a dark red paste. His head hung limp, like an unmanned puppet, but the same metal rods that kept him upright held his hand firmly in place. Firmly in place right on top of your head.
Taylor had dropped Landon’s pants and posed the two of you exactly like he’d found you in the first place. You on your knees with Landon’s flacid dick in your mouth. He’d even positioned your hand cupping Landon’s balls. Fucking hell, it was a shame the two of you were going to start smelling, because he’d have loved to have kept this little monument all to himself.
Truth be told, he wasn’t even that upset about Landon fucking the people he did over. It hadn’t even worked on his family. They weren’t that stupid. It was mostly about you. If you weren’t with Landon the who knows? Maybe he’d have just gotten the money back and let him go. But there was something about you, about your smug fucking attitude, that really set him off.
He sighed, walked to the end of the shed, and grabbed a shovel and a pry bar. Walking back to the center of the shed, he started prying up planks. He wouldn’t be able to keep the two of you like that forever, but at least he could drop you into your grave together 69ing or something. That way he’d always know that you both were right there under the shed, fucking each other just like you fucked everyone else.
END
You tease it a bit with your lips before taking it back into your mouth and sliding it as far as comfortably possible. He wraps his hands into your hair and you feel him shudder as he pushes deeper, shoving it further down your throat.
You momentarily gag, but take it. This is what you’ve wanted for a while, and you don’t want to ruin it by being a prude, so a little gagging isn’t that big of a deal. You close your eyes and lower your hand to his balls, lightly cupping and massaging them as you bob your head away, stopping at the tip to lightly suck, and moving back in with the hunger of a starving coyote.
His balls hang loose in your hand, and you tense in anticipation as he shoves his whole cock down your throat and holds your head in place. Over the course of several seconds he pumps his hot semen into your mouth, nearly choking you. You try to back away, but he holds you in place. You reflexively swallow, feeling each bit of his seed ooze down your throat, and he slowly slides his cock out of your mouth.
You try and catch your breath, ignoring your hard dick uncomfortably pressing against your jeans to the best of your ability. You roll off you knees and onto your ass. You know he won’t reciprocate, and it kills you. In attempt to get your mind off of just how horny you are, you decide to ask.
“So,” you say. “What is it you’re celebrating again?”
He reaches down, tucks his dick back into his pants, and zips them up. After he gives a quick, derisive snort, he answers. “I wanted you to meet me here because I literally just made 30 grand of these idiots for what was probably two, three hours of work total? I didn’t expect a bunch of old natives to be so gullible, but a quick buck is a quick buck, and after I heard about that bond scam that dude pulled on the Souix a couple years ago I figured I could just try it myself.”
You stand and brush the leaves and debris off of your pants. You can believe it. you’ve known a Native American, and it’s just the kind of thing you’d expect him to fall for. “Probably more greed than stupidity,” you say.
He shrugs. “Either way they fell for it. That's the important part.”
You laugh. “Yeah, tell them they’ll make some money down the line and they'll put their life savings on the line. That’s just like a-”
A quiet, male voice from behind you cuts you off. A voice you recognize. You freeze. “Just like a what?” he asks. “Just like a filthy, greedy savage? To risk everything they have in the faintest hope that they can get out of this shit-hole?”
You turn around to see a young looking native american man leaning against a tree. Instead of looking at you his eyes are trained on a hatchet that he idly flips in his hand. You take a couple of steps back, moving to Landon’s side.“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised from you, you fucking racist. Nice to see you haven’t changed at all since the last time I saw you.”
You swallow hard and briefly glance over at Landon. He cocks his eyebrow and glances back. “You know each other, then?” You slowly nod.
“Yeah we know each other,” the man says. “Me and him? We go back a bit, actually.” He sighs and looks up at the both of you. “My guess is that it wasn’t his idea though. He’s a racist prick, but I don’t actually think he’s smart enough to come up with a plan to fuck some poor gullible old native american man out of his life savings.” He stops flipping his hatchet and lets his arm fall to his side, standing up straight. “My guess,” he says. “Would be that the idea was yours-” he lifts the hatchet to point it at Landon before slowly moving it towards you. “But you just happened to know some people it might work on. That about sum it up?”
Landon chuckles. “I didn’t screw anyone outright. You think I forced them to buy those fake ass bonds? It barely even looked credible. That was their own stupidity, man.”
Taylor licks his lips and gives the hatchet another quick flip. His eyes are locked on Landons, and you notice the subtle rise and fall of Landon’s adam’s apple as he gulps. Slowly, Taylor takes a few steps towards you. “You know,” he says. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. To think that maybe you were taking orders from someone else, but the way you’re acting right now? That high and mighty bullshit?” Landon doesn’t move as Taylor slips the blade under his chin. “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like you think you’re better than me.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Now,” he says. “You have a twelve second head start. I’d suggest running.”
Landon lets out a loud, mirthless laugh. “Are you serious?” he says. “You’re threatening me? After I literally just proved I’m smarter than you or your idiot relatives? What the hell are you going to do? Kill me?”
Landon talking back gives you a little bit more confidence. You chuckle and nod your head. “With what’s basically a tomahawk, too. I thought you were trying to avoid being a stereotype. You might as well be using a bow and arrow or something.” Landon snorts, attempting to bite back a genuine laugh, but doesn’t agree or disagree.
An annoyed smile spreads across Taylor’s lips, and he bits his lip and nods. “Right. Right. Smarter.” Without warning he lifts the hatchet and hacks into Landon’s shoulder, cutting deep. You hear the loud crack of his collarbone, and he lets out a blood curdling scream. “But not smart enough to listen to the guy with the fucking axe, I guess. That’s ten.” Landon, in shock, turns to dart away, stumbles, and nearly falls. You catch him and shoot Taylor a brief glance before trying to pull Landon along with you.
He pulls himself back to his feet and you both shoot into the woods, ducking through trees and low hanging branches. He clutches his arm, and his blood soaks into your shirt as you try to lead him away. The wound is slowing him down. Without him you could move faster and probably get away.
You swallow. No. He’s your only friend. Probably the only person that ever seems to actually care. If you leave him behind you may as well die yourself. “Come on, man,” you say. “If we can make it to the car we can go to the damn police and sue. Just hang with me.”
Landon mumbles, limping along side you. He’s losing a lot of blood fast, and slowing down even more very second. You’ve only been running for a few seconds, but your lungs already burn. You can still hear Taylor counting down. “Five!” he yells, making sure you both hear. “Three!” No fucking way. Has he been skipping numbers this entire time?
You lift Landon’s arm over your neck and pick him up to the best of your ability, vainly hoping that you can move faster. The forest foliage seems to blend together. Where are you even headed, you wonder. Are you even running the right direction? “One!” You hear Taylor dart into the woods, and from the sound of it he’s catching up fast. In spite of your better judgement you glance over your shoulder.
Behind you, just through the trees, you see his silhouette flit through the woods like a spectre. He’s catching up to you, and he was catching up to you fast. Even with your head start, Landon is slowing you down too much to put any considerable distance between you. Even as fast as he’s closing in, though, you feel like he’s intentionally hanging back. Like he’s just fucking with you.
Just as quickly as you see him you lose sight of him. For a moment you’re filled with hope. Maybe he gave up. Maybe he didn’t want to take the risk of getting caught. He was a Native American, so the courts would probably believe he was just defending himself against Landon. As much as that idea disgusts you, it’s better than you both dying here in the woods.
As quickly as the hopeful glow buds it’s torn away from you. He leaps out of the brush like a coyote, wildly swinging the hatchet. You take Landon in your arms and turn away, shielding him to the best of your ability, and the hatchet bites deep into your back. Pain explodes throughout your whole body, and your legs go limp. Before you have a chance to move you crumple into a heap on top of Landon.
Taylor twists the hatchet free, and another wave courses through your body. You try to cry out for help, but your voice catches in your throat. No matter how hard you scream internally nothing comes out. Taylor steps around you and nudges your face with his boot, forcing you to look up at him. “Holy shit,” he says. “I knew you were a pussy but I didn’t expect you to go down that easy. That was, like, no fight at all. Damn, man, I thought your whiny ass could at least try and put up a fight.”
You want to tell him to fuck himself, but blood gurgles out of your mouth as you try to speak. He shrugs. “Oh well. I guess I can’t complain about it being too easy.” In a blur he lifts his boot and pounds it into your face. Your vision bursts into multicolored dots before fading away completely.
***
The slow, rhythmic whine of a blade grinding against stone pulls you from your blunt-trauma induced sleep. You try to open your eyes, but the bright light overhead stings, forcing you to shut them again. You’re uncomfortably aware of the congealing blood slathered around your lips, and you try to move to wipe it away. Something jangles around your wrists, and your arms catch behind your back. Handcuffs?
What the hell? You’re not dead? You groan and ease your eyes open, trying to give them a chance to adjust to the light. The first thing you see is Landon lying just across from you, motionless on the ground. The second, more important thing is Taylor, leaning back in a chair between the two of you. A long Bowie knife reflects the bright overhead fluorescents, and he slowly drags it across a whetstone. The sound you heard. As your eyes naturally follow from his hands to his face, your blood runs cold. He’s staring straight at you, smiling.
“Well shit. I didn’t think you were actually going to wake up,” he says. “Good to see you’re not totally done.” Your eyes involuntarily dart back to the knife before drifting back to his face. He glances to the knife, finally pulls it away from the whetstone, and looks back at you. “Intimidating, huh?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll be completely honest though. I’ve been sitting here doing this for about twenty minutes in hopes you’d wake up to me doing it.”
He flips the knife, catches it by the blade, and tosses it at you. It gives off a loud thunk as the blade jams deep into the wooden floor less than a foot away from you. You pull your legs in, trying to put distance between you and it.
“Honestly it’s just some cheap, shitty little $20 Wal-Mart garbage. Still looks damn scary though, huh?” He drops the chair back to the floor and stands up, brushing himself off. “Pretty damn sharp for cheap steel, too.” He steps up beside you and kneels down, wrapping his hand firmly around the handle. He gives it a quick twist and jerks it out of the wood. “But don’t take my word for it-” He stands up and walks over to Landon, kneels down, and grabs him by the hair. Your eyes lock onto the massive gash in his shoulder, and his previously light blue shirt is now drenched a dark red. “How ‘bout a demonstration?”
You scream as your fuzzy mind finally realizes what he’s about to do. “No!” you say, jerking against your chains. Your wrists ache, but you thrash anyway. Tears well up in your eyes. “Let him go, you sick fuck!” He cocks an eyebrow and stares at you, slowly bringing the knife to Landon’s exposed throat before pulling it away again. The fucker is taunting you. “Please!” you beg. “Just let him go.” your words come out in sobs, and you’re not entirely sure you actually make sense. You try anyway. “You can kill me. It was my idea. Every part of it. I read about it in a newspaper once and thought it could work! He just went along with it!”
Wet snot oozes from your nostrils, mixing with the blood caked onto your chin. “Please,” you say. “Please, please, I’ll do fucking anything.” He stops for a moment and seems to think it over.
“Anything?” he says. You nod.
“Fucking anything, man. I’ll pay you, I’ll humiliate myself, I’ll even eat your fucking ass if I have to. Please, just let him go.” He nods and drops Landon’s head, and you let out a relieved sob. “Thank you. Jesus fucking christ, thank you.” In one swift motion the world crumbles beneath you.
One single, deliberate swing. Time slows around you as you watch its path cut through the air, arcing like a lightly tossed ball. You can feel your wrists start to bleed as you fight against the handcuffs, but your struggle isn’t enough. The blade comes to a stop as it cleanly and effortlessly stabs straight through Landon’s neck and into the ground.
Landon’s eyes shoot open, and he tries to scream. All that comes out is a quiet hiss of air, followed by a cascade of blood. He digs at the knife, trying to force it out of his throat, but his weakened body can’t even begin to put up a fight against Taylor’s arm. As time creeps by his struggle slows and, finally, stops. His body falls limp, and you can swear you see the moment the light fades from his eyes. His cold, staring eyes.
Just like that, you give up. Your body falls to the ground, and suddenly nothing seems to matter. There isn’t anything left to fight for. He’s gone. Probably the only person you can actually say you even care about, even love, and he’s gone. Your jaw hangs slack, and you don’t bother looking up as Taylor walks up to your side.
“I know it wasn’t you, you fucking idiot. You’re not a leader. You’re the very definition of a follower. A whiny, useless, lost fucking follower at that.” He grabs your hair and jerks your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I’m just glad I got to see you broken before I killed you.” He pulls the blood covered knife back and thrusts it into your stomach. Pain shoots through you, into what feels like every nerve in your body. It doesn’t matter anymore. Suddenly, death doesn’t seem like it can come fast enough.
“I’ll just remind you of one thing before you’re completely gone. Consider it a small piece of wisdom.” He leans into you and twists the knife. “If you base your happiness on other people. If you don’t take it into your own hands. If you’re afraid to be a little selfish sometimes-” He slides the knife upwards, stopping as it hits your sternum. “You’re always going to be disappointed with how things turn out.”
He’s wrong. Every fiber of your being screams that the murderous, savage fuck is wrong. He has no clue what he’s talking about. How close you were to him. How much he mattered to you. Instead of arguing, you struggle against the handcuffs. The cold metal grinds against your raw flesh, sending a stinging wave up your wrists. You know you’re going to die. That’s already certain. The least you feel you can do is die by his side. Not by Taylor.
You hear something beside you. A laugh. Taylor is laughing at you. You’re not really surprised. He could have just killed you and taken his money back, but the sadistic fuck is still dragging this out even now. Something that does surprise you, however, is a quiet clink, and then the release of the tension on your wrists. You lift your trembling hands to your face to see the handcuffs dangling freely from your right hand. You swallow, look back up at Landon, and push yourself forward onto your stomach.
Your blood smears across the floor as you drag your screaming body over to Landon’s corpse, and for some reason Taylor actually steps out of your way. You think you can even hear him laughing behind you still. That doesn’t matter anymore. Inch by inch, you pull yourself across the concrete, expending the last of your energy to slide over to him. You grab onto Landon’s shirt, drag yourself the last few inches, and rest your tear and blood-soaked face on his back. Still warm.
Taylor says you’d be disappointed how things turn out. Really though? You’re not. You both deserved this. Something deep down in your gut tells you, and you can’t help agree. Sure, there are people you’d rather have done it than Taylor, but isn’t this some sense of justice for a racist con artist? You hadn’t pulled the con yourself, but it was you who led Landon to them in the first place, right?
No. You’re not disappointed. Something about this, about dying next to Landon for a mutually committed sin, feels right. Feels almost like justice. You close your eyes, take in one last, slow inhale of Landon’s scent, and slip away.
***
Taylor took a step back to admire his work, tucking his hands into his pockets. He tried to keep from grinning as he gazed upon the ludicrous sight, but he couldn’t. His lips split into a broad, toothy smile. Well, he thought, It’s probably exactly what the faggot would have wanted. Finally, completely giving in, he busted out into hearty laughter.
He lifted his hand to wipe a tear from his eye as he took one more long look at his creation. Landon stood straight, held up by metal pipes. The gaping wound in his throat had long since stopped bleeding, and the blood around it had congealed into a dark red paste. His head hung limp, like an unmanned puppet, but the same metal rods that kept him upright held his hand firmly in place. Firmly in place right on top of your head.
Taylor had dropped Landon’s pants and posed the two of you exactly like he’d found you in the first place. You on your knees with Landon’s flacid dick in your mouth. He’d even positioned your hand cupping Landon’s balls. Fucking hell, it was a shame the two of you were going to start smelling, because he’d have loved to have kept this little monument all to himself.
Truth be told, he wasn’t even that upset about Landon fucking the people he did over. It hadn’t even worked on his family. They weren’t that stupid. It was mostly about you. If you weren’t with Landon the who knows? Maybe he’d have just gotten the money back and let him go. But there was something about you, about your smug fucking attitude, that really set him off.
He sighed, walked to the end of the shed, and grabbed a shovel and a pry bar. Walking back to the center of the shed, he started prying up planks. He wouldn’t be able to keep the two of you like that forever, but at least he could drop you into your grave together 69ing or something. That way he’d always know that you both were right there under the shed, fucking each other just like you fucked everyone else.
END
