Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12317217.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage, Rape/
      Non-Con
  Category:
      Other
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-09 Updated: 2018-03-05 Chapters: 4/? Words: 2653
****** This World Of Mine ******
by I_B_I_S
Summary
     Pretty much a vent work. It's going to contain many things that I
     can't openly show in my real life. This is a story about a world in
     which I dream of. Yes, there are bad things in this story. IF you
     don't like it, DON'T READ IT. The chapters' themes will depend on my
     mood. I am not responsible for anything that may trigger you.
***** I'm Here Today *****
Chapter Summary
     I wake up from being. I'm not born. I'm awakened. There are others. I
     need a redo, to fix it all.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is short. It's just a short, vague introduction.
"Hello? Is someone there?" Darkness engulfed me and my hazy surroundings. I
couldn't see, nor did I want to. Pure nothing swirled around my eyes. Was I in
my head? No, I don't think so. I'm here, now. Where, exactly, I have no clue,
but I am here. Suddenly, a wave of dark liquid -water, I guess- rippled through
the nothingness, waking me from my sleep. Oh. I am shimmering with a dim light,
transparent, yet...alive. A flat surface beneath me glows faintly, but the
darkness still lingers at every corner of my vision. This..this is mine. This
is my world.
*Time Skip*
I perch on my rooftop, staring out at my world. No one ever tells me that it's
mine. They keep saying that some "God" made it. That "He" made me. Pfft.
Idiotic ideas. I made this life. I am the beginning. That doesn't matter now,
though. I can't breathe. Why? This is an odd sensation. Something's trying to
hurt me. Maybe I'll let myself go. Nope. Not yet. I don't see my attacker, but
I know that someone is choking me. Logic leaves my mind automatically. Rational
thought is a faraway wish. I cry out, saddened by the fact that no noise
escapes. My throat caves to the feeling, my lungs bursting inside of me. The
lack of breath creates a gasping attempt at trying to breathe. A soft 'pop'
goes off in my head, and it's all gone. Now I feel nothing.
***** Recreation *****
Chapter Summary
     More information on the plot. Another short chapter. This is just a
     necessary bridge chapter. Not really a vent, more like a second
     introduction. It'll get to the vent part soon.
Chapter Notes
     Okay, here's where the story actually takes off. Warning, there are
     probably sensitive topics in some of the next few chapters.
A simple task. Wake up. It seems simple enough, doesn't it? Augh. "Promise me,
that you will never hurt another. Please." Her words ring through my ears. The
echo of a past experience is fuzzy in my head. It didn't happen, did it? I
don't know. All I know is now. I've...died. It's cold, here.
A harsh light passes over my eyes, and I wake up in a hospital bed. My mom is
standing over me, looking worried. When she notices that my eyes are open, hers
widen and she gasps. "You-you're alive?!" Her disbelief confuses me. A faint
memory of the nothingness I was in lingers in my mind. I push it away, and
decide to smile and greet my mom. She starts to cry, says something about
nearly losing me. I say that I'm happy to see her, and tears stream down her
face, hardening my heart slightly. It's an inexplicable disease that I have. My
smile falters, and a faker one quickly takes its place. Looking down, I realize
I'm in the ER, and I'm connected to a bunch of wires and tubes. Just great.
What even happened to me? Oh. I feel the wounds, now. Clearly, I was hit by a
car, that seems common enough. What was I doing, though? The pieces just don't
seem to fit right. Well. If I died once, clearly I have control over myself.
This means that, whatever I do, won't have repercussions. Also, I don't believe
in that "God" bullshit either. I could care less about any supernatural beings.
I'm going to live, and this is going to be my world.
***** Stop this madness! (TW- torture) *****
Chapter Summary
     Lmao I hate myself
     This is fucking graphic.
     Yes, I'm thirteen.
     :P
Chapter Notes
     Well shit I'm a horrible fucking person yay
     :')
"Oh no..." I mutter, staring down. How did I get myself into this situation? On
the floor, in front of me, lies a little boy. His head is cracked open, and
bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. I smile, then quickly admonish myself. 'What's
wrong with me?' Looking at the boy, I notice something odd. There's a black
patch on his skin.
It's spreading very slowly...consuming him.
I blink rapidly and look again.
The patch is gone. The boy is lying there, still writhing in pain from his
wounds.
In that moment, something happens to me.
Reaching for a small needle, I know what I'm going to do next. A crooked smile
spreads across my face. She is quiet, so he takes control. I swear, I'm him.
Standing over the child, he takes the needle- I take the needle, and start to
play.
One little poke.
Two little pokes.
But, I'd like to see him in pain. So I grab a rather sharp knife I had laid out
earlier, and run it down his legs.
The tiny dribble of blood that follows is enough to spark the hunger in me.
I lick it off of him, and then jab the knife into his leg.
I don't want him dying, though.
His head wound is pretty bad. Can't let him bleed out that fast- what fun is
that?
Rushing to my bathroom, I grab a towel, and some gauze, and do whatever the
hell people do to stop the bleeding.
Good.
Back to my fun.
The knife, that I hadn't removed from his leg yet, is quickly jerked out. The
boy- what's his name- does it matter? hisses in pain as the thick red substance
oozes out of the wound.
I scratch his face with my nails to shut him up.
And because it's entertaining to watch the scratches turn white, then pink.
By now, his face is streaked with tears and blood.
Hm...what else should I do..
I lean over his bloody face, and poke at his bruised eyes. That's what I'll do.
Using my right-hand nails to pry it out, and my left hand to hold his face
down, I scrape out his eye. I shudder a bit as the stringy stuff that holds his
eye in place- what the fuck is it called- snaps off in my fingers.
He screams in agony as I tear it out, painfully slowly.
Grinning, I scratch him again.
"No making noise, sweetie, or the neighbors will hear us~"
This only seems to make him want to scream louder, obviously.
So I grab a washcloth and stuff it in his mouth to shut him up.
His legs and arms are kicking at me, self-defense, I suppose. Its not like a
seven-year old like him stands a chance against a thirteen-year old like me,
anyway.
He's pretty weak.
What a loser.
Too bad, he would've made a nice toy if he hadn't been so violent in his
methods of defense.
I pat my bruised cheek and arms happily.
'This kid needs to learn to respect those older than him~
I should teach him.'
I pick my knife back up. Time to put this thing to good use.
I run it up and down his face, and his neck.
His eye is bleeding profusely by now.
I lick his face clean.
Staring at me, his eye wide, full of tears, and scared, he whimpers when I slit
into his neck.
A steady flow of blood drips out.
"Mmm..."
I decide that's enough playing, and cut off his shirt for dramatic effect.
I slit up his chest and stomach, watching him tremble in fear as I do.
Then I lick the knife clean, drooling as I slit my tongue.
I let the blood and saliva drip onto his face.
In too much pain to be disgusted, he simply cries his muffled tears.
I tear his shorts off with my knife.
I stare at his thigh, wondering where the best place to start cutting him up
would be.
I decide it doesn't matter, and start from his hip.
Slit after slit, he screeches into the washcloth.
One, two three, ten.
All over and down his leg.
Then the other leg.
Then I turn to his arms.
I grab the knife firmly, and position it above his wrist.
And with one smooth motion, I bring it down and his hand detaches.
His screams and trembling sobs are pathetic.
I cringe at the feel of the bone being cut through, then shake off the
squeamish feeling and pick up the hand squirting out blood.
I lay it on top of his face, and he stares at it, eye wide and teary. His
stomach heaves, and he vomits into his own mouth.
I clamp my hand over the stained washcloth before he can spit it out of his
mouth. Now he has no choice but to eat it.
He cringes and shakes, but swallows fearfully.
His whole body shudders in agony.
Then, I remove the head bandage, and washcloth.
I'm going to kill him now.
I grab something to keep him in place, the sheets off of my bed, and tie him to
the bedposts.
He squirms, in a futile attempt to escape.
He's lost a lot of blood, he's weak, and there's no way he's leaving now.
I grab a new, sharper, knife, and slit his gut.
His intestines lay cradled inside.
I pull them out slowly, and take a good look at them.
Then I shove them in his mouth.
"Eat them."
He shakes his head, trembling from the cuts.
"I said eat them!" I say and stuff them in his mouth. He tries to close it, but
I pry it open and shove them down his throat. He gags and I close his teeth
over them.
Crying, he chews them.
And I laugh at his pathetic state.
I stand up and repeatedly smash his face in with my foot.
His nose makes a sickening sound, then snaps sideways.
His other eye pops and squints down the side of his face.
I stab him through the heart, again and again.
Now I'm sure he's dead.
And I lay down the knife and laugh.
***** TW- abuse lmao *****
Chapter Summary
     This is fucking crazy but
     It's what I would do if someone wanted to murder me and rape me n
     shit
     I'm 13 h a h
     The guy is like 29 or something
     I like rape and murder and shit :')
I sat in my room, at home alone. Bored nearly to death.
No new messages, nothing.
Suddenly, I hear the floor creak. Someone's in the house.
I decide to sit there and wait.
A man opens my door, holding a gun. He says nothing, instead smiles at me
creepily. I smile back.
"Hello there." I say. He stares at me and then points the gun at my forehead.
I'm perfectly okay with dying, just not by a gunshot, thank you very much.
So I tell him, "Are you sure you wanna kill me with that?" He seems sure
enough. I then suggest that he use something else. "And why should I listen to
you, kid?" He asks. I reply that if he is going to kill me, and get caught, he
might as well have fun doing it. He looks genuinely surprised, and somewhat
offended.
I gently move the gun away from my forehead, and lead him down to my dad's
room, where there's a coil of heavy-duty rope. I point to it, and he looks
skeptical. Then he remembers that he has a gun, and he tells me I had better
not try anything, or he'd shoot me instantly.
Once he has the rope and realizes I'm serious, he grabs me forcefully by my
short, brown hair and drags me back up the steps. Once we are back in my room,
he shoves me onto the floor and kicks me in the face. I grin, showing him my
orange-bracketed braces. That earns me another violent kick from him.
I stay as still as I can while he ties my arms and legs behind my back. The
rope's slick plastic coating slides over my legs, making me shiver.
I notice that he's keeping his gun close. Must still think this is a setup. Oh
well, his loss.
Once I'm tied up uncomfortably tight, so that I can barely breathe, I smile at
him and ask what he's going to do next. Staring at me, he grabs my bound arms
and drags me down the stairs to the kitchen. I think I know what he's going to
do now.
Kicking me down onto the cold tiled floor, he grabs a knife from the utensils
drawer.
He stands over me, sharp blade in hand. He chose a good one. Crouching down so
that the knife is just above my stomach, he makes a tiny slice. The burning
sting keeps me alert. He proceeds to jab at my shoulders. I shudder as the
slits get closer and closer, almost overlapping.
He cuts through my shirt and shorts, tearing them off with his knife. I grin in
anticipation. He slashes the knife into my side, and I hiss in pain as he takes
it out harshly. The shudders turn to heavy breathing and gasping as he slides
the knife back and forth over my skin. It feels so painful, so good...
Saliva escapes my mouth as I get flipped over onto my stomach. He takes the
knife and carves into my back. I moan in absolute pain as the metal blade
gashes my skin into little pale bits. Blood gushes out of the wound, and I'm
sad that I can't lick it up. But I'm too busy, in my own world of pain.
He looks at my mangled back and strokes it roughly, ruining the slowly-closing
wounds. Grunting from the burning spreading through me, he cuts the ropes off
of me. Kicking me over a bit, he stretches me out and slits off the rest of my
clothes and tosses them aside. He grinds his foot into my leg. It hurts, but
it's nothing compared to the knife wounds.
"Can't let you die a virgin." He says, grinning crazily.
I smile, then wince as he roughly shoves my rather useless body towards himself
and lines up.
Looks like he's gonna fuck me raw.
His grip on my hips tightens sufficiently as he prepares that first thrust- the
one that will break my barrier. I gasp in agony as he thrusts himself deep into
me. I breathe hard and bite my hand to muffle any screams.
I feel him smacking against my hymen, and then forcefully shoving through. It
feels like a thousand hot knives are stabbing me all at once.
All I see is a blinding white-hot pain. There is nothing else but me and the
screaming, fiery agony. His fingers are digging into my hip, making it bleed
from his sharp nails. He can't seem to stop jabbing into me. He keeps going
faster, and it's too much for me to handle. Then suddenly, he comes inside me
and I wince as I feel myself filling up with his bitter essence.
Thankfully I was never aroused in the first place, I was merely used as a now
non-virgin deposit for him.
I feel disgusting, and so I grin shakily as he picks the knife back up. He
seems annoyed. "Too dull." He mutters, then wanders downstairs to get another.
Meanwhile, I lay there, basking in the unending pain.
He returns with a larger knife, and proceeds to cut the bottom half of my leg
off. I screech and groan as he crunches through the bone with a sickening snap.
Writhing in agony, I lay there twitching and moaning. He smiles and cuts off my
other leg, this time at the thigh. And he gets the same reaction from me.
Deciding not to cut any more limbs off, and instead move to my face, he grabs
my head in his hands and opens my mouth harshly. Using one hand to hold my head
and the other to grab my tongue, he cuts of the fleshy organ in my mouth. I
scream mutely, and tears flood out of my eyes. The disgusting squelch of the
dismembered tongue sickens me.
I lay there, squirming and gasping from all the overwhelming pains I feel.
Deciding to finally end me, he presses his thumb into my eye socket. The loud,
wet, pop that follows sends me into tears again. I shiver and cry, my eyesocket
pulsing from where the nerves connecting my eye used to be. Dark red blood
oozes out of the gaping hole in my face. He licks at the wound, finally getting
the hang of this whole 'Torture and abuse' thing.
I start to laugh. I'm trembling with pure pain, but laughing insanely. He joins
me in my psychotic laugh as he raises the knife above my heart. He jabs it in,
and mid-laugh I die, with a crazy smile on my face.
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