*----Disclaimer----*

This story will contain A LOT of descriptions of gore and extreme violence. If you can't stand this sort of thing, I'd advise you to leave and read something else. Thank you!

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???: "Lucy! It's time for dinner, come on down and eat."

 

I heard my mom call out from the kitchen downstairs. I lay down my red crayons and look at the digital clock that shows 18:32. Time does just fly by when you're having fun planning your little games, right?

 

Lucy: "Coming right down, Mommy!"

 

I quickly stash away my drawings while giggling. I wouldn't want my parents to see my drawings after all. They're not something a normal 6-year-old would draw. At least, that's what I think.

After hiding my drawings, I hurriedly run out my room and down the spiral stairs that lead to the front door. To the right of the door, lay the kitchen and dining room, while to the left the living room, as well as the bathroom and the garage, lay. As I turn to go into the dining room, I walk by a mirror. A small girl with purplish hair and dark eyes stand. That's me. An adorable, innocent little girl. People would never suspect it's all a false facade. One big lie that's been deceiving them all.

I walk into the dining room, seeing my mom in the kitchen preparing the food. Sitting at the table, I look around myself. The dining room's not big, but it's not small either. The walls are white, while the floor's made of dark wood in intriguing patterns. The lamp above the table gives off a warm hue, making me feel extremely cosy.

 

Lucy: "What's for dinner mommy?"

Mom: "Oh, just some vegetable soup with chicken and some bread on the side." (A/N: The best I could come up with. I know absolutely nothing about food.)

 

She quickly walks over with a pot that's releasing massive amounts of steam and places it on a coaster on the table. Instantly the smell washes over me. It's got this smell that I simply cannot describe in words. Mommy's food will never seize to surprise me. Even just a normally sloppy dish like this could smell so good. Sometimes I wonder why she's not a professional chef, as she could be recognised in the world of cooking.

Only now did it hit me that dad's not sitting at the table. Usually, he would be the first one to arrive, since he'd never want to miss a meal Mommy makes. He's just like me when it comes to her creation of unbelievably delicious food.

 

Lucy: "Mommy, where's dad?"

Mom: "*Sigh*, his workplace called him and asked him to take a shift for one of his co-workers."

 

Oddly enough, something like this has never happened before. I feel weird. Dad's always been sitting at the table together with Mommy and me. Even if work called, he'd usually decline instead of accepting their request. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I feel like my Mommy's not telling me all there is to it. Perhaps it's something that I won't understand, I'm not sure.

 

-----------*Timeskip, ~1 hour*-----------

 

After I finished eating the food meant for gods, I helped do the dishes, and quickly went to my room to continue my drawings. The hidden drawings now in front of me depicted gore. Extreme gore. One of them depicted a homeless man sitting in an alleyway with his stomach completely mangled, with blood and intestines everywhere. His hands had been sewn onto his head, replacing his ears, while his eyes had been gouged out and were placed inside his mouth. His legs were bending the wrong way, while each of his lungs had been sewn onto his cheeks, making it look like he had cheeks reaching down to his chest.

You're probably wondering how I can draw and depict something like this? Honestly, I don't know. My artistic skills are way beyond what a 6-year-old should be able to do. Even some of the more professional drawers I've seen, don't even compare to the realism of my drawings. Usually, what I want to do, I draw.

With a plan in mind, I quickly got to finding some thread, a spoon, a hammer, some rope, a needle and of course my personal favourite, a large kitchen knife which I've had hidden outside behind the shed in the backyard, beneath a little pile of dirt.

After finding all the stuff needed to make the drawing real, I hurriedly scramble into my room to hide it. I wouldn't want my mom to find out about this since she would probably never approve of my doings. She would most likely think I'm mentally ill, which is something I don't see myself as. I only see myself as different than "normal" people.

By the time I've hidden all the stuff, the digital clock shows 19:53. A sudden knock on my door gets my attention as I quickly stash away the drawings and get a backup drawing of a very badly illustrated snowman. A normal drawing for someone of my age. The door opens, and in comes my mom with a wide smile plastered on her face.

 

Mom: "Oh Lucyyy, it's bedtime sweetie."

 

I mentally roll my eyes at her. Although I like my Mommy, she can sometimes be a pain in the a**, when she does something like this. However, my thoughts go unnoticed as my outside beam with a bright innocent smile and a soft giggle escapes my mouth.

 

Lucy: "Okay Mommy! But before going to bed, I want to show you my drawing, Mommy!"

 

I quickly get on my legs, take the drawing and run towards her and embrace her before she can say anything else. She looks quite taken aback at the sudden event, but quickly masks it with a loving and beautiful smile, and embrace me back.

 

Mom: "Okay, what have you drawn. Show me."

 

I quickly hand her the drawing, and her face is plastered with a smile so bright even the sun would feel jealous of the brightness.

 

Mom: "That's a really beautiful snowman you've drawn sweetheart!"

 

She looks like she means it. But, it also feels like she's just holding up a facade. It feels fake. But even if it's fake, I still enjoy her bright mood after looking at a drawing I made. It makes me feel accomplished and happy, though the drawing...I'm not proud of. It's too sloppy for my liking.

 

-----------*Timeskip, ~20 minutes*-----------

 

After brushing my teeth and getting into my pyjamas and laying in my bed, Mommy sang a lullaby. It made my mind calm down, and at the time I felt my eyelids become heavy, it was already too late as I fell asleep.

 

-----------*Timeskip, ~2 hours*-----------

 

A muffled alarm sounded and I woke up. I felt wide awake, and no tiredness could be felt in my body. I look over at the digital clock and turn off the alarm to see time say 22:17. I'm glad I had set an alarm in case I did fall asleep, or I would've slept throughout the night. I would be pretty mad about it since I wouldn't have been able to go through with this if I slept.

Before all this, I would usually kill animals in the nearby forest like hares or deer if I were lucky. However, I have killed a person before, and that's what got me into painting the surroundings with their blood. When I heard her scream in agony and her blood splashed everywhere, I felt complete. 

Oddly enough, I never got caught. It was like I didn't leave any fingerprints or clues, resulting in the case being unsolved and a complete mystery. That was about a year ago when we were on vacation. Ever since then I've craved to murder again, and in the cruellest way possible at that. I've spent a year to come up with different concepts to torture and cause excruciating pain to my next victim. 

I quickly got out of bed, folding the red duvet in a way that made it seem I was still in bed. It would be bad if Mommy or Dad came into my room and saw that I wasn't there. I'd rather not have that happen. 

After a couple of minutes of going around my room to find the necessary equipment for tonight, I change into my favourite red jeans, with a red blouse with white text saying: 'A big smile makes the day'. I gently open the window to my room and take a couple of sheets, tie them together and tie one end to the window frame and throw it out the window as Rapunzel did with her hair.

Normally I'd use the excuse that I'd be playing at a friend's house in case I needed to kill an animal. But, since it's night, I can't use that excuse, now can I? Besides, It's way past my bedtime.

I take my school backpack that's now full of my tools, and slowly begin to glide down the sheets from the second floor, down to the ground. Since I already have everything ready, the only thing left is to find my victim, a homeless person. Someone no one cares about, and won't even remember if they're gone.

 

-----------*Timeskip, ~15 minutes*-----------

 

It didn't take too long to find a homeless guy sitting against a wall at the entrance to an alleyway soundly asleep. I quickly took my backpack off and took out the rope and I very carefully began to wrap it around him, to restrict his movements. I wouldn't want him to lash out at me since he'd easily be stronger than me since I'm so young.

As I finish wrapping him loosely up in rope, I lead the rope into the alleyway and climb with it up a steel stairway, all the way up to the third floor, where a used old fridge stands. I wrap the remainder of the rope tightly around it. Coincidentally the fence in front of the fridge was extremely brittle and old, resulting in me pushing the fridge off the ledge with all my might.

Almost instantly a loud crash is heard and a scream from the homeless man as the ropes tighten to an extreme, and he flies away from his original spot and into the alleyway, where he lay beside the now broken fridge. What's odd is that it seems no one heard anything. No lights turn on. It's as if everyone that lives nearby has gone completely deaf. It's...weird. Almost as if something's meddling with the sound. But, that's something to worry about later.

The homeless man looks at me in what seems like anger and surprise at what had just happened. Who would want to wake up by having a fridge pull you into an alleyway at night? I looked at him with innocent eyes and a bright smile.

 

Lucy: "Will you play with me? Please?"

 

A look of confusion appeared on his face as he looked at your innocent behaviour. I take off my backpack, open it and take out my tools. Almost instantly the look of confusion turns into that of surprise and fear. Who wouldn't be a little scared if a 6-year-old had a large kitchen knife?

 

Lucy: "Since I don't want you running away, I sadly have to...fix you up a little."

 

A wide smile appears on my face. But unlike my normal innocent smile, this one represents more that of a devil looking down at its prey. The grin of a devil.

I take the hammer and walk up to him. It'll take some time to break his leg since my arms don't have too much strength. But that just makes it more enjoyable as I'll be able to hear his screams for a longer time. Lifting the hammer, and swinging it down as hard as I can on his knee.

A loud crack. A scream of agony. Exactly the thing I need to hear. Already tears and snot are flowing down his face as he looks at me in horror. Oh, that look just makes my day. The same grin from before has been plastered on my face as I continue to smash my hammer on his kneecap, breaking it more and more. His screams continue to ring in my ears as I'm guessing the excruciating pain he's experiencing. His whole body is spasming in pain, while he continues to cry and scream in agony.

 

Lucy: "Why aren't you saying anything old man? It's not as satisfying if you don't talk you know?"

 

Looking at his leg that is now completely bent in the wrong direction after half an hour of hammering as hard as I could, I wonder why he isn't speaking.

 

Lucy: "Are you perhaps...mute?"

 

A small flinch at the corner of his mouth confirms my suspicions. Oh...how fun it will be to torture him. He won't be able to even scream for help. Only his screams of agony will be heard.

 

Lucy: "So you are mute. Well, that just makes it more fun for me. You can't even scream for help! The only sound you'll make is your screams of agony as you hope someone will come and save you...but no one will. It's only you and me!"

 

At first, a small giggle escapes my lips, but it later turns into manic laughter as I look at him with a crazed expression. This is just perfect. Now I don't even care to feel down because of his inability to speak. This is even better. He won't be able to call for help, only his screams will be heard by my ears. Ooooh, how wonderful it is. His music-like screams are the best way to feel the satisfaction of my work of art!

With a grin plastered on my face, I lift my hammer once more and smash it down onto his other leg. Even when he's struggling it's not a problem to hit him as his movements are restricted by the ropes. I continue to smash his kneecap as hard as I can.

Not even a couple of minutes later his kneecap has turned into dust. I'm surprised his body hasn't gone into shock yet. With the amount of pain I'm inflicting on him, a normal person would probably fall unconscious. But this just means more fun for me!

*Crack*

An extremely loud scream sounds throughout the alleyway. Both his legs are now in completely wrong directions, while his thigh bone on his left leg was poking out of his flesh and skin as a continues stream of blood drifted down his thigh.

 

Lucy: "Now that's done, It's time to move on, Mister!"

 

I walk back to my tool and lay down the hammer in exchange for the spoon that is now in my hand. As if knowing what I want to do, a whimper escapes his mouth. He's already shed so many tears that no more will come out.

As I stand in front of him, I place my child hand on his cheek and smile, while I plunge the spoon in between his eyeball and eyelid. He's mostly already given up on trying to break free, but his screams still fuel me and make me feel complete.

His eyeball now in my hand is still attached with a string of...nerves? Or is it a blood vein? I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that it'll be fun to use.

I take my knife and begin scraping the vein ever so gently until I cut halfway through it and let the blood spill into the homeless man's eye socket. A groan escapes his mouth, but not a scream. Not that it would hurt much compared to having both his legs broken, but it's a good way to make him feel some level of pain and extremely uncomfortable as well.

Without prior warning, I pull as hard as I can, tearing the eyeball away from his now somewhat filled up eye socket. Tears begin to flow once more as a whimper or groan escapes his mouth once more.

 

Lucy: "You're no fun anymore, you know that right? All you do is scream again and again, can't you do something else?"

 

I'm getting bored with him already. It was fun the first hour of torture, but after that, it was just the same over and over again. Nothing changed. It was always the same screams, whimper, groan or snot and tear-filled face. And I still have so much more to do, so why is it that he just keeps doing the same? Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy his screams of pain, but there's just simply nothing new happening.

 

Lucy: "Alright, maybe I should just go home-"

 

A small sigh of relief escapes the man's mouth as he probably thinks he's at least safe for more.

 

Lucy: "After I'm done hacking your hands off, and sewing them onto your head!"

 

A pair of despair filled eyes looks at me in horror. It's like he's begging me to stop, and leave him alone. He thinks he's suffered enough. But what if I don't think so?

I take my hammer and my kitchen knife and place the knife at his wrist. Without further ado I swing the hammer down as hard as I can on the knife, resulting in another blood-curdling scream of despair filling my ears as the knife is now stuck in his flesh and bones. To stop the bleeding, I take some leftover rope and tightly tie his arm below his elbow. I don't want him to die now, would I?

I continue to hack down with the hammer, resulting in a massive amount of crackling sounds and screams. A small puddle of blood forms below his hand, but it's not enough to kill due to blood loss.

*CLING*

A final smash on the knife with the hammer and I'm through. By now he's passed out due to the massive amounts of pain I've inflicted on him. At least it took longer than that girl on the vacation. She passed out after she saw her blood drizzle down on the ground. She did later wake up and scream for help and begging me to stop, but seeing her in a puddle of blood sent her back into unconsciousness. 

 

Lucy: "Let's just get this over with now that he's passed out."

 

-----------*Timeskip, ~1 hour*-----------

 

Lucy: "Finally I'm finished with my masterpiece."

 

As I hold up my drawing and compare it to the real-life thing, a thrill runs through my body. They look exactly the same. The hollow eye sockets crying blood, with the eyeballs placed in the mouth. The lungs sewn onto each cheek, and the hands sewed onto each side of the head replacing the ears. The mangled gut, with intestines lying everywhere, and the broken legs, sticking in completely wrong directions. And of course, the blood that's spread out everywhere. Blood on the brick walls. Blood on the asphalt ground. And blood everywhere around his now mangled dead body. I couldn't help but flash a bright smile at work I could call 'Well Done'. Compared to the lady I killed at the age of 5, this masterpiece before me was 1000 times better. Something like this brings me an immense amount of satisfaction. A sense of accomplishment, so to say. This is something I could say was made by me, and be extremely proud of. Well enough about this masterpiece. It's time to go home and get some sleep. This all feels like a fun game. A Night Game.

After taking all the tools I used, I began to wander home. Hiding the knife in the dirt pile behind the shed, climbing in through the window, putting everything used back to their respective place from which I took them and going to bed, falling soundly asleep.

 

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