Short Twisted Stories

What Did You Think I was Going to do?

Prompt: Motorcycle

She was walking down the street, when he went roaring past. Her hair whipped in her face as she almost lost her balance. Just like every day, he would get as close to her as possible without hitting her and then speed off. No matter how many times this happened, she still never got used to it, and it still scared her, every single time. He was always wearing a shiny black helmet, so she could never tell who he was, or even if it was a boy at all. But the way they acted...

She clutched her chest. She felt scared and overwhelmed. She was overtaken with an urge. The need to do something. Something that people had begged her to never do again. Something that needed to be done. Pain needed to be experienced.

As soon as she got home, she knew exactly where to get what she needed, for scars are not easily forgotten. Under the couch cushion where no one would expect a knife to be hidden. The sharpest one she had. The one that sliced through skin the easiest and most satisfying.

After rummaging through all the trash that had built up over the months, she finally raised the knife with a triumphant smile on her face. But she had been so focused on finding it that she didn't notice someone had come in through her door.

"I'm telling you," someone violently grabbed her raised wrist , "You don't want to do what you were planning on doing. It's not a very good idea."

She yanked her hand away and quickly turned around, "And how do you know what I was going to do?" She accused. She gave a small gasp as she saw who it was.

"Recognize me?" They asked in a sickly sweet voice. A person wearing a shiny black motorcycle helmet was standing not more than two feet away from her. The same one that had been harassing her for months. She was frozen in shock, still kneeling in front of the couch. The person in the helmet slowly took off their helmet to reveal that they were a very, very pretty girl. Most would say beautiful, or gorgeous. But in reality, she was breathtaking.

She just stood there gaping like a fish out of water, taking every inch of this new, beautiful woman in all black.

"My name is Vanessa. Now, hand over the knife," she paused for a second before saying, "Please?" But it was still more of a demand than a question.

Now over the shock of Vanessa's appearance, she clutched the knife close to her body. "No."

"Oh well," Vanessa tossed her helmet onto the floor, "I didn't want to have to do this."

Before she even knew what was happening, she was on the floor with Vanessa on top of her and Vanessa's tongue practically down her throat. She still had no idea what was happening when Vanessa took the knife out of her paralyzed hand.

"Thank you, love." Vanessa stood up, "Now do me a favor and show me those pretty little thighs and chest, why won't you?"

She was now emotionally numb, but not with fear. She was so numb that she did as was told and took off her clothes without thinking. She was used to being on the giving end of this kind of treatment, not receiving it. Once everything was gone except for her underwear, she looked up at Vanessa as if waiting for something. Except Vanessa's face was just full of confusion.

"Where..." she paused for a second, "Where are all your scars?"

The girl looked up at her, equally confused now, "What scars? What do you mean by scars?"

"The ones from you and the blade and the aaughh!" She was now waving her arms around as if that would bring her all the answers that she was looking for.

"Oh I've been the cause of lots of scars," The girl paused for a moment before saying slowly, "Do you mean self harm scars?"

"Yes!" Vanessa threw her arms up, almost making the knife fly across the room because she forgot that she was holding it.

"Oh no, never once thought about doing that." She had a scarily emotionless face on as she tilted her head to the side.

"But then, the knife? What were you going to do with it?" Vanessa stepped closer to the girl and sounded almost desperate for answers.

"Oh, well you see," she slowly stood up, her voice void of emotion, "I was going to do this."

Before Vanessa was even aware of what was happening, this time she was on the floor and now had a knife pressed against her neck. The knife cut so easily through skin, slicing Vanessa's throat open like it was warm butter. The girl kept her stone straight face as Vanessa's blood quickly covered her hand.

"What did you think I was going to do?" She laughed, "Hurt myself?"

Her hallow, emotionless laughter was the last thing Vanessa ever heard.

(A/N: sorry this so rushed and trashy, it's finals week and I'm about to die myself)