MeganMiG:Bat
From Create Your Own Story
"Better late than never..." you mutter, wrapping your left hand around the handle of the bat and holding it out in front of yourself. Vanessa remains oblivious, humming to herself as you slink up behind her. You stop, and take a moment to think. Does Vanessa really deserve this? She never really did anything...
"It doesn't matter. Kill her, girl. Kill her." your conscience (or lack of one) barks at you. It seems unfamiliar, and you begin to wonder if you really have finally lost it. Whatever. If you have, it's too late to get "it" back.
You line the bat up with her right temple, and accidentally tap it gently. She looks over before you can swing, and is in the process of turning around when your swing strikes her in the jaw and knocks her onto the floor.
"Megan! What the fuck?!" She manages to choke out, cradling her chin in her hands and backing herself into the corner between her bed and the wall. You swing downwards, cracking her on the top of her head. She throws her hands up, crying and screaming. "Please! Please! Stop, Megan, stop! What the hell?" A kick to the stomach causes her to double over in pain, and you bash her on the head again.
Vanessa slumps over, sobbing loudly. "Megan... Please... stop! I-I just... I just wanted-" She weakly raises a hand to try to stop you, but you grab her by the wrist and pull her onto the bed. Softly, she whispers a last "please" before you smash her face repeatedly, each hit causing an audible crunch and a bloody mess to emerge as her skull collapses. Finally, after her sheets are thoroughly stained, her head flattened and the bat splinters, you take a moment to really take in the scene. The silence... the way that one of Vanessa's teeth has been embedded into the bat, the crimson-red color of Vanessa's blood and the light shimmer it gives off, and her face itself. It looks kinda lovely when it's flat, to be honest. That pisses you off. Even in her death, with her head flattened, she seems pretty. Oh well, at least she's dead now.
Smiling, you drop the bat and roll it under the bed with your foot. For a moment you wish you could keep it as a trophy, but there's no point.
Hurrying down the steps, you feel a twinge of regret before it is snubbed out by a rush of excitement. Almost done...
