Written by Elise Valente
Voting is closed as of 22 February 2013! Thank you all for participating in our Mystery Author Bloody Valentine Flash Fiction event!
Lydia paced in front of him, her clothes covered in his blood and madness in her eyes. She was mumbling, talking to herself as she paced, maniacal giggles escaping her every so often as she rambled. She paused and turned to stare at him, and a grin spread across her face.
“You look so much better now,” she giggled. She moved toward him until her face was inches from his own and examined his bloodied and swollen eyes. “Yes,” she nodded. “You look the way a cheater is supposed to look. Covered in the scars of my pain.”
Her eyes glazed over, and she resumed her conversation with herself as she moved away from him, back toward the table that held all the cruel instruments she’d been using on him. Spikes, ice picks, knives, needlesall those, and more, had been applied to him ever since he awoke in this room, tied to this chair, a rotten piece of cloth filling his mouth. And pictures of him on the walls and ceiling, covering every free inch of space in the windowless room.
He’d had no idea how he had gotten there. Worse yet, he had no idea who this woman was. He only knew her name because she’d made him say it over and over as she’d ripped his fingernails out. The few times she’d removed his gag, he’d tried to reason with her, tried bribing her, tried anything to get her to let him go. Nothing had worked.
Another bout of maniacal laughter filled the room, and he flinched. Every other time she’d laughed, it had signaled the beginning of a new round of torture for him. She had more in store for him, it seemed; he only hoped that this time, she killed him.
“And the clock strikes midnight!” she sang as chimes sounded from somewhere in the room. She picked something up and danced toward him, her eyes alight with insanity. His blurred vision only caught a flash of metal a moment before the searing pain of a knife burned through him. “Midnight, midnight!” she sang as she carved into his chest, her crazed voice easily overwhelming the sound of his muffled screams.
His body jerked and spasmed as she cut into him, and his vision darkened as his consciousness threatened to flee. Agonizing minutes passed before she stopped, and the pain was replaced with a chill as he realized he could no longer feel his pulse.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lydia screeched, holding up the raw and bloody heart to his face.
