My Dead Sister.

Continuation from: [link]



The killer took a drag from a cigarette and sat on the street corner bench, deep in thought. 'She deserved to die', the killer thought, 'I was doing everyone a favor....'

"Why are you doing this?! I don't understand...please!" She was tied to a chair, but he hadn't harmed her. Yet.
"I'll make you understand," he yanked her hair back and made her stare into his cold eyes. The killer could feel the rage starting to boil in his body and had to hold back.... "I want you to hate me. Come on, Amanda. Tell me you hate me."
She just started to wail louder and the killer was getting impatient. He brought his hand high over his head and slapped her hard across the face. "LISTEN TO ME! Quit your fucking crying. And yell at me. Scream at me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me how sick and horrible I am. TELL ME."
She turned her face to his and spat in his face. "Fuck off."
The killer smiled. "That's more like it."
And he stabbed her, over and over, letting the blood splatter everywhere. Making a beautiful mess, until he was satisfied.

'The only person who misses her is that whiny sister of her's,' he smiled to himself at his next thought, 'I could so easily take care of her too.'