Thread: the collection || bear & malicious lullaby

With precise and detailed movement, his strong hand very delicately urged the paintbrush with the thinnest brush tip coated in black paint to the porcelain face, outlining a beautiful face. Dark brown bangs arched over one side of his forehead that was licked with beads of sweat, his brows furrowed and the dark depths of his eyes focused intently on his latest masterpiece at hand. Until her screams echoed in his ears once again, causing him to draw a jagged and crooked line on the beautiful dolls delicate face. Anger bubbled in him. This would be the third doll he ruined, all because she wouldnt just shut the fuck up. Placing the brush down beside him deceptively calmly, he grabbed the doll by its neck and then threw it at the wall, hearing the heartbreaking smash of porcelain into bits and pieces scatter on the ground, its clothes now just an insignificant lump of material on the ground. No longer calm, he rolled his neck and straightened his spine, a satisfying crack playing to his ears before he barged right to her cell and threw it open. The moment he did, she launched herself at him but he caught her by her slender and fragile throat. I told you to shut up! Launching her, face first into the wall, her screams and thrashing went silent. All he heard were her moans and whimpers of pain as he let her body go. Kneeling down beside her with all the gentleness in the world to afford, he lifted her chin with his fingers and gazed down at her bleeding face. He tutted his tongue three times and let out a harsh sigh. Look at what you made me do. He crooned, cupped her cheeks with both hands. As she began to cry, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to her bleeding one. Why did you make me do it? He whispered hoarsely, tortured and pained. She tried to apologize but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Look at your face. He whispered, tracing his finger over her bleeding nose and lips, swiping up her blood. He brought his finger to his lips and tasted somehow her blood tasted acrid now and he shook his head. No good. He shook his head again and stood, dropping her on the ground like a rag doll that weighed nothing. She pleaded again, sobbing uncontrollably. He did nothing. But when she curled up next to his leg, clutching it like she suddenly wanted to be his again, he lost it. Grabbing her by her hair, he launched her into the wall face first again and she screamed. Ruined Dolly. He mumbled, eyes wide and stark as he once again slammed her face first into the wall, hearing a crack--whether it was the wall or her face he didnt know or care. He kept doing it again until he heard mush and her blood coated the wall. Dropping her lifeless body, he looked down at her with dark and clouded eyes shadowed and framed by his bangs and sighed heavily. Dead Dolly. Once he disposed of her body, cleaned up the wall with bleach so there was no evidence of her blood and completely restored her cell, he sat down at his desk and started working on his latest masterpiece. His mind ran rampant of what he would do next when the scouting began. And thanks to his latest dolly, he knew there was another out there, ripe for the taking. Which was how, a week later, he found himself at the local coffee shop that served some of the best coffee he ever tasted, standing outside while his gaze was locked on the barista making coffee. That was her. The very one. He watched her even before he took her friend and though she hadnt been his first choice, she would suffice. And perhaps she would be perfect the way her friend wasnt. While he usually liked it when they screamed, he had to be doing something to them to make them scream. Otherwise, it was dreadfully annoying. And his last dolly had become just that--dreadfully annoying. So really, it was her own fault she was now six feet under in some vacant spot on his familys old property. Sliding his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone as he opened the door and slipped inside. He looked down while his finger swiped the lock key, looking up occasionally to make sure he didnt bump into anyone when the time he didnt look up, he felt a bump followed by boiling hot liquid touching his arm, cascading down. He felt it for a second before it stopped, his soft caramel brown eyes glossed as they stuck on the girl before him. She wasnt the barista. She wasnt anyone he had been tailing. She was a nobody and yet he could pick her face out in millions and never forget the detail of it. She looked exactly like her , not a single detail out of place from the last time he saw her in his youth. Maya A smile spread slowly and he shook his head. No, please dont worry about it. The fault was all mine. He said softly, strikingly calm despite his usual demeanor. It was my fault anyways. Im the big oaf looking at his phone when I should be looking more clearly He couldnt look away from her at this very moment. I mean, looking where I am going that is. He cleared his throat. Stepping back a little, he offered his free hand to hers. Im Paxton. He said softly. May I buy you another coffee?