NaNoWriMo: CAUTION: It's a bit vulgar and violent.
[spoiler]What to do now? Slice off a limb. That sounds fun. Not a major limb that would kill you right away. I'd have to cut off circulation or burn the arteries closed. What about your hand, dear? Now, how do I keep it from bleeding everywhere. Do you have anything to heat up in your room. You're girl, you must have a hair straightener, yes? Ha! I know you all to well, dear. Just in plain sight, I plug it in and heat it to the highest temperature. When the small machine beeps, I cut your right hand away from the duck tape. Your left hand is solidly against the bar still, yes? I lean my body back and grip the handle of a butcher knife I had grabbed from your kitchen on my way up. My left hand holding your arm in place and my right arm raising the blade above my head. I see you close your glowing orbs tightly and look away, shivering, scared. I lay the blade down against your wrist, gently to line it up, then draw it back once more. I lower it down with a fast pace and a hard swing. You scream in agony against the duck tape as blood spewed around. God dammit! It didn't come off cleanly, one my strike 'ot to do it. I raise the knife once more and lay it back down, this time a small thud hit sounded as your hand hit the floor, lifeless. I quickly reach for your hair straightener and place it against the bleeding wound. The blood seemed to stop oozing. The light from the moon glistened off the pools of crimson body fluid.
A grin grew on my lips. An insane one. I see the tears streaming from your eyes as your breath is at a faster pace. Don't cry, I can't stand it when you cry. I push your head to look at the wall and gently lift your hand. The blood rolled down my arm like a ruby snake. Oh deary, don't worry. Smack! Smack! Smack! I let out a small insane laughter as your own hand lays crimson blood-ridden marks across your face. "Why are you hitting yourself?" I chuckle. Smack! Smack! Smack! Repeat. Smack! Smack! Smack! You cry and look up at me with those painful eyes. No! Stop looking at me. You're gorgeous but, I see the pain in your eyes. Stop it! Stop! I love you stop looking at me. Your eyes plead and beg just to be free of pain. Okay! I'll do it! I slip my arms around you and kiss your red neck. "Tell me, love, why is a raven like a writing desk?" Those are the last words you'll ever hear. I placed one hand at the bottom of your jaw the other on top and, CRACK!. Smooth and clean. Your body is limp and lifeless. I gently cut the duck tape from your arm and roll you over. "I'm sorry." I whispered, carving, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" into the contours of your back. That's the way I leave you. I easily leave your house. I won't be spotted leaving in the dark.[/spoiler]