A/N: Okay... I realize it’s been ages since I’ve written anything. I’m trying. I was reading Prof. Delusional’s Fault Hades tonight, though, and it inspired me.

This (very) short story is based by a picture that I drew, which was inspired by Nine Inch Nails’ “Reptile”. The chorus is quoted. If you know the song, and recognize the lyrics, they are not mine.

Warnings: Implied sex, mutilation, murder, and some mild language (mild for one of my stories, anyway). It’s sick and twisted, and probably not for the faint of heart.

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Beautiful Liar
by dysturbation

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He didn’t know. I wasn‘t supposed to be there, and he didn’t realize that I was.

He didn’t know, the next day, when I smiled and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. When he nuzzled my ear, and told me he loved me, and handed me a cup of coffee.

Oh, my beautiful liar.

How hollow his words were, how empty his eyes. How utterly bitter my smile. He didn’t know that he’d been caught. That I’d been watching. That I’d seen him, seen it, and realized his terrible lie.

I can lie, too.

He didn’t know I was peering around the doorframe, his moans echoing in my ears. I’d seen. The pale light on his face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the elegant arch of his back...

Oh, my precious whore.

Apparently, he didn’t know. He was mine, in every way possible. His heart, his mind, his body, his soul. He didn’t know. The liar. The whore. He didn’t know that I was a part of him he could never be rid of. He didn’t know that I was under his skin, in his blood. My disease. My infection.

He didn’t know, when he came home that night. The lights were out, and he was so trusting, laughing softly as he felt his way to the bedroom. I could still smell his lie on the bedsheets. He didn’t know, when I handcuffed him to the bed. He thought I was playing. I can be a liar, too.

He didn’t know, until he saw the light glinting off of the scalpel. His empty eyes were filled with emotion again. I took those out first. He screamed, and his slurred words had meaning again. I opened him up, bleeding myself out of him, and took back the heart that was rightfully mine.

He didn’t know. He stopped twitching. Stopped breathing. Stopped lying. I took his words from him, and sewed them back up, just right. I cut a perfect smile into his face, and then set my tools aside.

He didn’t know, when I removed the handcuffs and let his arms fall limp. He didn’t know, when I curled myself around him. Perfectly happy. Perfectly perfect. Like we were always meant to be. He can never lie to me again.

He didn’t know, but now he does.

I am so impure.

-end-