a/n: Greetings, all! I haven't posted on here for foreverrrr... I wrote this last night because I somehow got sidetracked on YouTube and watched some Darkiplier videos, along with surfed a little on Tumblr for the same subject. I wanted to get this up asap, to prove to myself that I can get stuff done. If I have another burst of inspiration, I might add another little chapter, but don't hold me to it. All mistakes are my own. I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks!
This story is short and sweet - or short and sour.
Rated M for implications. Trigger warning: implied rape.
He was there. He was always there.
I saw his face. It was bloody, dirty, his smile chilling. The blindfold over his eyes was almost totally soaked in blood.
My breathing became faster as he slowly walked towards me. He walked achingly slow as I watched every step, every bone and muscle shift under his skin. When he arrived at my chair, he stopped moving. I thought he would just stand there, looking down at me and smiling. His blindfold was still over his eyes, but it was as if he could see right through it and straight into my soul. However, he slowly bent down to eye level, so that his face was only inches from mine, his smile only inches from my mouth. The rancid stink of blood invaded my nose and I wanted to retch.
He stood like that for a second, and I looked back at him. Then his hands moved from his sides, and I thought he was going to play with my hair or trace his finger along my leg like he had before.
His hands, however, moved past my legs and toward his own head. He started working his blindfold off, tugging a little up and down, turning it to the left, then to the right. The sound was anything but pleasant - like used band-aids slowly tearing off injured, exposed skin.
More blood dripped from beneath the blindfold. He lifted the blindfold higher off of his face, and it revealed not only his lack of eyes, but deep, gaping, ragged holes where they should have been. They were bloodied, some of the crimson liquid still falling from the corners of his eyes - where tears of emotion should come from.
He pulled the blindfold off completely, felt the dried blood on the old cloth between his fingers, and to my utter disgust, laid it gingerly on my lap. It was stiff but weighted. I tried letting it fall to the ground by opening my legs and letting gravity do the work, but Dark quickly put that to rest by grabbing my knees and holding them together.
His unsettling smile had abandoned his face for that small action, but had returned eagerly, not wanting to miss anything interesting.
"Ah, ah, ah," he said, shaking his head at me. "You'll have plenty of time to spread your legs later. This moment is simply for the gore and the terror." His voice sounded like a low, terrifying purr. "Alright?"