So, I was working on perspective and tones with this piece, there could be more, but this was done as an experiment and as a quick writing exercise.
“Come here Carly,” his voice is heavy, slow, the cigarettes have taken their toll, the one hanging from his lips is not helping.
A fearful whimper escapes her mouth, but she does as she is told, knowing the alternative will be much worse.
“Hold out your hand,” he says. She does so, and removing the cigarette from his lips, he extinguishes it upon her palm. She whimpers again. “Stick it out.”
Tears are coming through her sewn shut eyes as she sticks what is left of her tongue out.
Taking a knife, he cuts a small sliver of the nub off and sticks it into his mouth, chewing the soft flesh with a smile on his face. “You have lasted a lot longer than your friends did Carly. I’m impressed.”
He would need to move soon, Carly’s friends were already beginning to smell, but he could not risk moving her, and he was having too much fun with her alive.
He had enticed a group of three girls out one night, plying them with cheap drinks at some college bar. He had arrived in town only about an hour before and found this abandoned shack on it’s outskirts. It was June, so there would be no heating problems, and the house was far enough off the road so that their screams, when they had been able to, had not been heard. Samantha, the first girl, had died shortly after he had sewn her eyes shut, right after the first slice of her tongue. Her body had gone into shock, possibly scared to death, at least in a loose interpretation of the terms.
He had sewn Carly’s eyes shut next, savoring every noise she made as the needle went into her flesh. She had passed out from the experience and that left the redhead, she had said her name was Vivian. Lying Carly down, he took Vivian by the hand, brushing his lips against the back of it, before putting his cigarette out on it, using the wet mark from his lips as a target for the thrust of the cigarette.
Vivian yelped, but that only caused the man to laugh. It was throaty, like his voice, weighed down by years of tar building in his lungs. He grabbed a syringe and plunged it into the arm he still had a hold of. He would need to get more Mivacurium soon. While waiting for the drug to kick in, he reached over and pulled another needle and some black suture thread off of a nearby windowsill.
Vivian moaned as he lifted her arms up and let go. They fell limply to her sides, so he began to sew, starting with her right eye. Finishing this rather quickly, he looked into her face, staring pointedly at her left eye. “Remember this smile honey, it’s the last one you will ever see.”
Vivian tried to scream as the needle began to sew her left eye shut.