Not my first original story, but I still hope it’s good. It was a bit of a spur of the moment thing, but I decided to take my time. I hope you all enjoy!

One More Time

Prologue: Just Another Drug

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There was a smooth sliding noise—a metal baseball bat being drug across a hard wood floor. Then, the sliding stopped, just as he did. Across the room, in an armchair, was a young woman reading a book. She was also listening to an MP3 player, so she didn’t notice he had entered the room.

Good.

He approached her further, still dragging the bat along his side, and stopped again about 4 feet away. This time, she noticed him and removed one of the headphones from her ear.

That’s the last song she’ll ever listen to.

“Hey,” She chirped, and glanced at the baseball bat. “What’s with that thing?”

He narrowed his eyes, but his expression stayed vacant. “He ran into the pole,” He hissed through gritted teeth and she tensed. “A pole that so happened to be sharpened and shaped just like a knife and was lodged into his stomach, causing internal bleeding and him dying a mere 12 hours later.”

She flinched and took her other headphone out. “Wait just a second,” She muttered shakily while rising from the armchair. “Don’t you want to hear—”

“What is there to hear?” He growled, and a panicked look graced her features. She knew what was going to happen. Clever girl.

“He was getting in the way of our relationship,” She breathed, defensively. “I had no other choice.”

“He was my BROTHER!”

“Don’t you see? We’re better off without him!” She took a hesitant step foreword, “Now we can be together without anyone giving us crap. We can be happy now!” She laid her hands against his shoulders, but his eyes were fixed to the ground.

“We could’ve been happy anyway,” He whispered.

They shared silence; stifled with fear and confusion. But he was stifled with something else.

“My brother was right,” He glared up at her, a sudden hate in his eyes. “You are better off dead.”

She didn’t have time to think when the metal bat met the side of her face. She screamed in pain and feel the floor, curling up into a writhing ball. He just stood there, horror plastered on his face. Did he just do that? Did he just break her jaw? And… did it really feel that good?

“Do it again.”

What was that?

“Hit her again.”

Who’s that?

“Look at her; watch her squirm. You know you want to.”

He gulped.

“You want to see that pretty little face of hers distorted and ruined.”

Yes. Ohhh, YES he wanted to so badly.

He watched her attempt to crawl away and without another thought, he lifted the bat and swung.

Crrrack.

Crimson never looked so good on someone.

“Again.”

The little voice purred imperatively.

And he did just that.

Splat.

Crack.

Snap.

Beautiful.

“More!” the voice laughed, and he swung the bat, again and again and again, into the back of her skull. Oh, those beautiful noises filling him with energy and making hit harder with every strike. She had long since stopped screaming, but the sounds she made now were just too addicting. Everything, from his hollowed vision, was soaked in blood—the excusive liquid pooling on the ground below her caved skull.

When the sounds became a dull mush, he stopped. He dropped the bat and it landed with a crisp clank on the bloody floor. He panted, staring at the heap of brain and bone lying in and scattered about her skull.

Why hasn’t he ever tried this before? Why hasn’t anyone tried this before?

He fell to his knees as he looked down at his crimson soaked hands and arms—taking in the trickling beauty.

And he laughed.

Oh, he laughed. He laughed until his lungs felt as if they were on fire and his jaw was coming loose and his stomach was splitting from the inside-out.

And then he laughed some more.

His brother was avenged and his so-called “girlfriend” was dead… but what now?

He finally noticed his energy was gone and the high he was on faded away. He wanted more, so much more. It was as if he had found a drug and now he was addicted to it.

“One more time…” He gasped out, “I just need to do it one last time.”

“I knew you’d like it.” The voice said. “But you need to learn how to control it now. With every drug comes an overdose, so lets try to avoid that.”

He nodded absent mindedly, and somehow he saw the voice smile.

“Good. Now let’s clean this place up—no fingerprints no blood no body… Got it?”

“Y…yeah…” He got up slowly and staggered toward the sink.

“You can call me Braydin by the way.”

“I’m Wyatt.”

Braydin smiled again.

“It looks like you and me are going to have a lot of fun together, Wyatt…”

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Yay.

This was mostly inspired by the movie Mr. Brooks. I didn't like it that much, but the concept was great.

PLEASE no flames! I worked hard on this and I’d enjoy some positive feedback. Thank you all for reading!