Stella Sadie Spruce

Striking her head once more, I marveled at the disfigurement. I honestly don’t remember what she looked like, but I retain a vivid memory of her destroyed façade. I wish I would have kept something from her. I miss her. I really miss her. I love you, Stella.
Just a few months ago, I met her. We were both juniors in high school. Had a few classes with her. We got to talking, texting, and hanging out. I asked her to be my girlfriend. Man, I was in love. Stella Sadie Spruce was perfect.
Sadly, the girl I thought was my soul mate turned out to be the exact opposite. She was so great at first, but by the time she changed, I was already attached. We stayed together, fighting, until it became too much to deal with. She left me while I tried to act unaffected.
Depression and anxiety ate away at my sanity. I began hurting myself. Then helpless animals. I couldn’t stop it. I knew what I had to do. That stereotypical saying, “If I can’t have her, no one can.”
Knocked her out, drove her to a field, rubbing her the whole trip. “It’s okay, Stella.” I took her deep into the woods, far away from civilization. Pure nature. Violence. Beauty.
I slapped her a few times to get her up. It took her about half a minute, but sure enough, she was freaking out. I had grabbed a rather large branch prior to waking her, which was now in her face. That shut her up.
Instead of screaming, she was crying. Whining. Begging. And I loved every bit of it. I struck her directly with the branch as my center grew. I remember thinking, “If only your legs weren’t in the way. Those eyes will do.” Her eyes were beautiful. Emerald green. I ripped out the left one with my fingers. Her screams were so loud that I began to get a headache. But I didn’t focus much on it. Instead, I commenced fornication. Taking the virginity of her vision. It was quite an awkward thing. She was still alive and completely conscious. I could hear her groan and choke with each inimical thrust I made.
When I was done, I still felt unsatisfied. I beat her face, kicked her, and stomped on her. I don’t remember exactly when she died. Her face was entirely unrecognizable by the time I ran out of energy.
With one more hit, I left her like that, breathing heavily. That perfect form. I was fulfilled.
The hand that disfigured Stella Sadie Spruce now masturbates to the memory.
Category:Mental Illness