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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/996717
Rated: 18+ · Book · Horror/Scary · #2226830
A place for horror or darker stories, mostly written for 'Screams!!!'
#996717 added October 25, 2020 at 11:04am
Restrictions: None
Compulsion
Compulsion

A girl can only take so much before she cracks. I warned him and warned him, but he just kept on pushing. Thump; his fist in my stomach. Thump; his fist in my jaw, this time so hard that it sends me over sideways. I didn't curl up fast enough to prevent his boot from making contact with my head.

Lie still! That's all I need to do, and being dazed it's really not so hard. My eyes are closed and yet I can tell he's had enough and that his angry outburst is over. The fridge door opens and closes. He pulls the tab from a beer can and I can hear him swallow some of it before he leaves the kitchen.

It doesn't take a genius to know where he's gone or what he's doing. The television blares out with fake laughter which he joins in with.

I'm safe enough for now.

Pulling myself up onto my knees, I wipe the blood that is dripping from between my lips. Has he done some internal damage? No, two teeth and a split lip. Okay, I've had much worse than that. All I need to do is to wait until my head clears enough then I can stand up, make my way to the bathroom and lock myself in there.

Except I don't. There is no conscious decision to pick up the knife that is laying there on the kitchen counter. It's like something takes over... some compulsion.

He's so lost in the laughter he does not even hear me enter the room and I don't have to sneak my way towards him. My arm has a mind of its own now as it reaches forward, knife in hand to stab him.

That gets his attention. He looks at the blood, his for once, and then he stares at me, roars in anger. I didn't do much damage. He's right, I am a coward, a useless piece of shit that can't do anything right.

Or is he. Maybe not, for suddenly my arm is moving again before he has a chance to take the knife away from me, and I am stabbing again. Over and over, now. It's like I'm stuck in some kind of repetitive compulsion. If I stop stabbing, he'll get up and the beating he'll deliver will be so much worse than any of the previous ones.

I never meant to do it. Honestly. But now that I've started, I just can't stop.



(416 words)

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