(t8n:"flicker")[
(align:"=><=")+(box:"===XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX===")[<p class="title">GIRLKILLER</p>
<p class="subtitle">(covet)</p>
[[start]]]](set: $brackets to (css:"color:#03ffea;"))This game deals with very heavy content and graphic descriptions, as well as stylized images of violence and gore.
(link:"View content warnings")[''Content Warnings:''
Body image descriptions; brief mention of happy family unit; jealousy, stalking, erotomania (kind of); sexual descriptions, euphemisms, and imagery; very graphic descriptions of violence; choking/hand on neck; dissociative thinking; identity confusion; intent to murder.
Much of the sexual imagery is one-sided or used to depict violent acts upon someone else, so it may evoke similar feelings to sexual assault or dub-con triggers.
This game has three routes and two endings. The following CWs contain spoilers for what these are and their contents, but are detailed here so that you can avoid playthroughs with certain content if you need to.
(link:"View route CWs")[''Route CWs:''
Hands route: asphyxiation (with a hand), ripping clothes open, detailed descriptions of bones breaking/dislocating (ribs)
Knife route: knife threat (knife held to someone’s throat), graphic depictions of violence enacted with a knife (stabbing, slashing, cutting), self-harm (cutting), consumption of another person’s blood/licking their wounds (literally)
Weapon of opportunity route: graphic depictions of violence enacted with a blunt force object (bludgeoning), detailed descriptions of bones breaking (collarbones, skull), extremely violent head injury]
(link:"View ending CWs")[''Ending CWs:''
True ending: so much blood, consumption of another person’s blood, forcible undressing, possession, murder, death
Hesitation ending: graphic depictions of violence being done to you (the player), dismemberment, beheading, confinement, descriptions of tight and dark spaces]]
(t8n-depart:"fade")[[Begin->1]]thanks to:
santi towner & elliot herriman for reading drafts(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:1.5s)+(t8n-time:3s)[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait1.png"> </div> There is a girl who looks like you.
You’ve watched her for so long you can’t remember your own face, only hers, which is close enough to your own that it doesn’t bother you very much anyway. She acts like you too, you think - same habits, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies - or maybe you began to act like her on purpose? You’re not sure at this point where you end and she begins.
[[All you know is that you’ve been watching her. And you’re watching her now.->2]]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait2.png"> </div>]She’s at home. Her apartment. The windows are tall and wide, naked, the curtains undrawn. She’s not afraid of people seeing her. You’ve caught peeks of her dressing, undressing, catalogued the colors of her bras and which ones are part of a matching set. You imagine (link-reveal:"what they would look like on you")[$brackets[ (it sets your teeth on edge)]] and (link-reveal:"how they would feel unclasping under your fingers")[ $brackets[(you want to press your teeth into her skin)]] and (link-reveal:"how they would burn if you simply set fire to it all")[ $brackets[(what are you other than teeth made to tear)]].
[[>>->3]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait3.png"> </div>]It's morning. She slips into the bathroom, which you, unfortunately, can't see - but you can picture it if you close your eyes, if you let yourself sink into the memory of the social media video she posted going step-by-step through her routine. 'Get ready with me', she'd titled it, as though inviting you in. You recall the sound of her shower and the satisfied groan she makes stepping into hot water. When she's out, your mind's eye trails down her front, watching the dew on her skin trickle into the lovely space between her breasts. She faces you, stares directly at you, slicks her fingers with serums and lotions and runs them delicately over her face, her eyes, her lips, putting on a show for //you//. Gorgeous. Confident. Smooth and supple.
[[>>->4]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait4.png"> </div>]She returns to the main room, pulling a drape over the window into her bedroom, pretending not to know it's sheer enough people can see through it anyway. Her silhouette shimmers as though concealed not by fabric but by a heat haze. The towel drops. She bends over to search through a drawer. You ache to know the shape of her unobscured by things as simple as vision.
You're glad, as you watch, that she's spending so long picking an outfit. Nice of her to put in the effort.
[[ It is a milestone event for the two of you, after all.->5]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait5.png"> </div>
[[[Today is the day you're going to kill her.->6]]]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait6.png"> </div>]How long have you been planning this? Did it start out this way, with this primal need, or has it transformed into something darker? You're not sure. It seems like the only logical progression of your relationship.
She reappears in the window. A sundress, red, with little white flowers. It's one of her favorites. You grin. This means she'll be- yes, there she is, pursing her lips into the mirror on her windowsill, applying the matched lipstick with perfect accuracy, accentuating her beautiful teeth, beautiful mouth, needing minimal makeup to bring out her large doe eyes, highlight her flawless skin. Pulling out all the stops. Just for you.
[[>>->7]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait7.png"> </div>]A check of the time on her phone, a message saying she's on the way - she's fashionably late, and she'll arrive slightly windblown, after the rest of her friends, to be the center of attention. You're not certain whether she does this on purpose, but she does it every time, and as she slips on her shoes and (link-reveal:"jogs")[ $brackets[(effortless, lightly)]] out of her house, you follow her almost-hurried walk down the street. She approaches the local haunt of her small-but-tight group, a cute cafe, part of a small chain. Someone decided it was more ethical than their previous place. Everyone else stands to hug her, kiss her cheek, say their hellos and how are yous.
[[>>->8]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait8.png"></div>]Although you enjoy watching her get fawned over, navigate conversation easily, know when to share and when to stay quiet, know when to lay a gentle hand on a shoulder for comfort, know when to laugh loudly or laugh daintily, you've seen this dozens of times. She's the same, always. Perfect.
You have other things to think about, anyway. Like how you're going to do it. What method. What tools. You know the when and where already - she's leading you there, a slow game, cat and mouse, foreplay. But what are you going to do when the time comes?
[[I'll use my bare hands.->hands1]]
[[I'll use a knife.->knife1]]
[[I'll use a weapon of opportunity.->opportunity1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands1.png"></div>](set: $weapon to "hands")Bare hands. Intimate. Close. You'll finally get the feel of her flesh under your fingers, the feel of it giving way beneath you. You want your control fine-tuned.
After all, this is something you've been thinking about for so long. It has to be perfect. As perfect as her. As perfect of the two of you together.
[[>>->9]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife1.png"></div>](set: $weapon to "knife")Knife. Prepared. Messy. You want to slip it within her, feel her insides, let her release. She isn't red enough yet, even in this outfit.
After all, this is something you've been thinking about for so long. It has to be perfect. As perfect as her. As perfect of the two of you together.
[[>>->9]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity1.png"></div>](set: $weapon to "opportunity")Weapon of opportunity. Something thematic. Chance, or fate? Either way, you know that it will provide you the perfect choice. You are meant to fulfil this destiny together, and destiny will deliver.
After all, this is something you've been thinking about for so long. It has to be perfect. As perfect as her. As perfect of the two of you together.
[[>>->9]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait9.png"></div>]Ah, they're getting up. Good timing. You don't need to answer the 'why' of it yet, and you're not sure you could if you tried. Now you can focus on her, here, now, again. She waves goodbye to her friends, hair and skin shining in the sunlight, promising to catch up next week - and though you know she knows it's a lie, with your date later, (link-reveal:"she delivers it like she believes it's true.")[ $brackets[(Method acting. She has a role to play.)]]
[[>>->10]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait10.png"></div>]The rest of her day goes simply, and (link-reveal:"it’s so easy for you to keep up.")[ $brackets[(It’s like she wants you to.// She does.//)]] She goes clothes shopping, leaving the store with nothing; usually, this would unnerve you, as it’s an occurrence as rare as her having a hair out of place, but it doesn’t today. What would be the point? She’s wearing the only clothes she’ll ever need again. She visits her boyfriend, teases him; they’re steady enough, but not so much it infringes on her life, and (link-reveal:"she only puts out when she really feels like it.")[ $brackets[(She doesn’t today. She’s saving herself for you.)]] She takes a walk through a park, taking photos as she goes; she’s always been one to appreciate natural beauty, another trait you share with her.
[[>>->11]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait11.png"></div>]The sun is setting later and later these days, so it’s not out of the sky yet when it turns to evening and she begins to make her way towards her final destination. You overheard a phone call earlier.
[[She’s going home for family dinner.->12]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait12.png"></div>]Her family is perfect, of course. Parents still together and in love. Friendly relationship with her siblings. Grandparents all alive and kicking. Good role models - (link-reveal:"how else does one become perfect?")[ $brackets[(You're about to find out.)]] And they all have catch-up dinners regularly, like a good little unit, (link-reveal:"loving and caring and genuine.")[ $brackets[(You want to raze it to the ground. You want to burn with them.)]]
[[>>->13]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait13.png"></div>]She takes a bus there. It’s a simple ride. They’re all in the same area, too, for convenience, and for support. It’s sweet and sickening. But it’s good for you, because you’re used to this. Familiar territory. It makes it easy to slip onto the bus, to follow her off at her stop, to slink in the shadows behind her as she steps up to the door and opens it - it’s always unlocked when they’re expecting visitors - and calls out a greeting. It’s child’s play for you to hop the fence and sneak into the back where there are plenty of bushes to hide behind. And, lucky for you, the dining room in this house faces the yard, with big, open conservatory windows for you to get a nice clear view through, and one is left cracked enough that you can hear snippets of conversation, too.
[[>>->14]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait14.png"></div>]It’s a pleasant dinner. But you get bored with waiting. You feel your eyes slipping closed, hear in the distance an indication of the family going on a walk, leaving the girl behind as she dutifully takes her turn to clean up the dishes. Now would be a great time to pounce, if only you could stay awake, if only you could…
[[Everything is dark, and then...->15]](t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait15.png"></div>]You’re inside. When did you come in? You don’t know; you’re just here, suddenly, a realisation that this is where you’ve always been, where you’re meant to be. With her. For real, this time, not watching.
You glance around. Your heart knows this room as well as it knows how to beat. Trophies from sports, fashion contests, academics; pictures of her, her family, her friends, all smiling, all perfect; knickknacks and decor, pink and white and girly. She’s always been this way. But you’ve always been here too.
[[>>->16]]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait16.png"></div>]She hasn’t noticed you yet. She’s busy looking around the room, laying her hand gently on items and images from her past. Turned as she is from you, bathed in the mellow glow of childhood fairy lights reflecting on blush-colored walls, she seems more teenage - her hair more downy than glossy perfection, her sundress more innocent than flattering, her form slighter, smoother.
[[>>->17]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait17.png"></div>]And then, finally, she turns, her eyes finding yours. For a split second you see (link-reveal:"her face")[ $brackets[(your face)]] 10 years younger, features soft and pure - and then she grows up in an instant. Her expression is briefly surprised before settling into careful neutrality. She’s perfect, composed, even now - she won’t let you see how scared you know she is.
Not unless you make her.
[[Not unless you ruin her.->18]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait18.png"></div>“Who are you?” she says, voice cautious, controlled.
You tilt your head, just slightly, and smile. “Do you really need to ask?”
She licks her lips. Your eyes dart down to watch the movement, pink on red on skin on flesh, and you feel yourself starting to get excited. She’s //nervous//. Cute.
“What are you doing here?”
“Where else would I be?” you ask, taking a step closer. She backs up into the dresser. Jewellery rattles, photos fall over, the mirror wobbles.
[[>>->19]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait19.png"></div>“I thought- I saw you watching.” Confirmation. Your smile widens. “I just never expected you to…”
She swallows. You watch the delicate flutter of her throat.
“No, you knew,” you retort, stepping closer. She inhales, backed against a wall, with you between her and the door. “You knew this is what would happen eventually. You were just pretending it wouldn’t. Pretending I wouldn’t come for you. Pretending is all you do.”
[[>>->20]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait20.png"></div>“That’s not fair.” She’s afraid, yes, but (link-reveal:"there’s a rage there, simmering under her skin.")[ $brackets[(This will remain even when she is gone.)]] (link-reveal:"Is she mad at you? Herself? The world?")[$brackets[// (All three.)//]] Her eyes are bright, still, and resolute. She will not go down easy.
A laugh bubbles up through you, out of you, solitary at first, then joined by more and more and //more//, like a vein cut, dripping, pressed to gurgle out a river.
[[>>->21]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait21.png"></div>“Princess,” you coo, coming close enough to lift your hand, put a knuckle under her chin, tilt her head gently upwards, making her look more defiant while putting you more (link-reveal:"in control.")[ $brackets[ (How long can you contain yourself? How long has she contained you?)]] You almost expected something to happen when you touched, fireworks, an (link-reveal:"explosion")[$brackets[ (an implosion)]], but there’s nothing except for the feeling of her skin, warm against yours. “I know you better than anyone. Better than your friends. Better than your boyfriend. Better than your family. Better than yourself. You think I don’t know when you’re lying?”
Her jaw tenses and you //feel// it. It sends a thrill through you.
[[>>->22]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait22.png"></div>“What do you //want//,” she spits, and you almost wish her venom were tangible, physical, so you could feel the ecstasy of her unmaking you the way you are about to do to her.
You move closer again, close enough to feel the radiating heat from her body. “I think you know that too.”
[[There.->23]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait23.png"></div>The flicker of recognition and fear in her eyes. All this time, she’s seen you in the shadows, known your gaze was on her, known your intentions, and all this time, she’s ignored you, pushed you down, acted like nothing had changed. (link-reveal:"You feel your anger rise within you.")[ $brackets[(Your rage is her rage is the rage of both of you together.)]] She’s furious you exist. You’re furious she still does. And that she’s been so determined, all this time, to live her careful masquerade of normalcy. How dare she? //How dare she? //
[[But.->24]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait24.png"></div>This means she’s been thinking about you. This means she’s put on a facade because of you. This means that all of the show she’s put on for the world, her whole performance, she’s been doing for //you//, knowing you’re in the audience, all your attention on her.
(link-reveal:"Something in her")[ $brackets[(how deep? How repressed?)]] is enjoying this as much as you are.
It makes you grin. You think you see the corner of her lip twitch up too, your beautiful reflection, but if it does she tamps it down as fast as she can. Even now, she has to show the world, you, that she’s still a //good girl//. Pure. Light. She doesn’t have any bad thoughts, or violent ones, or ones that could forever change the way people see her.
[[>>->25]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait25.png"></div>That’s okay, though. You’re here to free her from that. You’re here to save her. To save yourself. To perfect by ruining. To become through unbecoming.
“Any last words?” you purr, leaning into her space, hand moving from under her chin to around her throat. You’re gentle about it. For now.
“Fuck you.” She swallows under your grip.
“Eager. Well, who am I to deny you consummation?”
(if: $weapon is "hands")[[And so you begin.->hands2]] (if: $weapon is "knife")[[And so you begin.->knife2]] (if: $weapon is "opportunity")[[And so you begin.->opportunity2]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands2.png"></div>]You tighten your grasp, intruding on her windpipe. She inhales quickly, but as you increase the pressure, it becomes stuttering, panicked, frenzied. Her hands claw at your arms but find no purchase.
Your other hand moves to her side, and you allow yourself to indulge in the curve of her waist for just a moment before setting your sights on your real target: her rib cage.
[[>>->hands2.1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife2.png"></div>]You’re not sure when you grabbed it, but the knife in your other hand has weight, heft, form - and yet, when you slide it into her abdomen, it goes effortlessly, a swimmer seamless into water. She lets out a shuddering exhale and you breathe her air in. You pull the blade out slow, teasing, and watch as the red bleeds through her dress, darkens it, turns the white flowers crimson.
[[It’s not enough.->knife2.1]] It’s finally time for you choose your weapon. You scan the surface behind her, but you decide that it will be better blind, left to chance, so you look back into her eyes and let your free hand settle onto an object at random. Something cool and smooth touches your palm, and you lift it, feeling a weight that is satisfying and sufficient.
[[>>->opportunity2.1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands2.1.png"></div>]She’s adequately asphyxiated, so you remove your fingers from her neck, letting her gasp and gulp for air, dizzy and disoriented, just how you want her. You need to rip a hole in her dress at the bottom of her sternum. It’s flimsy. Easy to tear. An opening is all you need.
You position one of your hands below her breast, open-palmed, gripping against skin and structure; the other, you place on her other side, tracing the bend of her seventh rib.
[[“This is going to hurt,” you say.->hands2.2]][<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands2.2.png"></div>]Bracing against her, you pry your fingers under her bones, and, once you have a firm hold, you twist. She screams. Her voice is hoarse. It almost obscures the pop of the cartilage disconnecting, her bottom ribs dislocating, severing from her breastbone. You watch in fascination as the pain makes her breathing pick up pace, quicken the staccato rise and fall of her chest. That will only be more agonising.
[[>>->hands2.3]][<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands2.3.png"></div>]Well, at least she’s so delirious from the pain that she doesn’t try to fight back. It makes the rest of your job easier - you switch sides, steady your hands, and twist again. Her scream isn’t as loud, this time, throat already raw, which means the intricacies of that popping sound are clearer. It comes paired with a grinding noise and a subtle note of ripping, ambrosial to your ears.
Her skin is inflamed where you’ve touched her, neck and chest red with heat and harm. Blood spills from where your nails have sunk into her under her ribs, where your force has ripped her open from the inside.
[[>>->26]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportrait26.png"></div>](link-reveal:"You’ve finally hurt her.")[ $brackets[(Your echo. Your twin. Your soulmate.)]]
She’s wounded in front of you, head lolling backwards, arms limp at her sides. Even with all of her earlier belligerence, she’s submitted to you now. (link-reveal:"She’s yours.")[$brackets[ (You’re hers. You’re //yours//.)]] You’ve finally made your mark. //Your// mark, not hers. You’ve affected the world. Changed something. But it’s still. Not. Enough.
All it will take is a little more effort.
[[Do it.->kill1]]
[[Hesitate.->hesitate1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife2.1.png"></div>]Impatient, you hold the knife up to her throat so she won’t move, removing your palm from her invisible Adam’s apple to drag your fingers down her body, stopping at the gap you’ve made. It’s thin, blood trickling out. You need it to pour.
[[So you look directly into her eyes and, feeling your way, dip your fingers into her skin.->knife2.2]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife2.2.png"></div>]You watch her eyelids flicker closed, her mouth open into a groan, her head tilt back even as it presses her neck into the knife. Blood flows from her new opening, encouraged by your exploring touch, sundress dusking, blossoms disappearing, dripping into the carpet below.
[[>>->26]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity2.1.png"></div>]You glance at it. It’s a trophy - painted gold, but heavyweight resin underneath. Secret and cheap. You don’t check what it was awarded for because you know what it was supposed to represent: she’s the perfect girl. She always has been. She always will be.
[[You smile, because you know what it means now: //you// will be the perfect girl.->opportunity2.2]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity2.2.png"></div>]You raise the trophy high behind you and watch her eyes follow it, fearful, apprehensive. She looks back at you. She looks at your grin. She looks death in the eye and you look in the eyes that will soon be yours.
And you bring your hand down, quick, brutal, slamming the trophy into her shoulder.
Her bones crack. Blood sprays. She screams and sobs, tries to move, but causes herself so much pain that she nearly passes out.
[[>>->26]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitkill1.png"></div>]You slide your hands underneath her armpits and around her back, hoisting her off the dresser she’s leaning on and bringing her over to the pristine bed. For a moment, it’s like you’re hugging: touching skin, sharing warmth, her head resting on your shoulder. (link-reveal:"It’s almost nice.")[ $brackets[(It’s almost //right//.)]] When you place her on the comforter, you notice some of her blood has dripped onto you, and you touch it, wonder at it, cherish it for the gift it is, swiping it with a finger and (link-reveal:"dabbing it on your tongue.")[ $brackets[(Metallic. Viscous. Sweet as cherry wine.)]]
[[>>->kill2]]What are you doing? You’ve been planning this for so long. This is all you’ve worked up to. (link-reveal:"All you are.")[$brackets[// (So is she.)//]]
For just a fraction of a second, your grip on her softens; your eyes lose a little of their hunger; your shark-smile falters. She is barely alive. Barely awake. But she sees it. She knows it. She feels it in your bones.
[[And you, suddenly, know what is coming.->hesitate2]](if: $weapon is "hands")[(t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitkill2hands.png"></div>]](if: $weapon is "knife")[(t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitkill2knife.png"></div>]](if: $weapon is "opportunity")[(t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitkill2opportunity.png"></div>]]She’s conscious, but she’s barely acting like it, splayed out, eyes hazy and half-lidded and dazed, hair spread around her like a halo, a scarlet outline slowly seeping from her body. Ophelia on a sanguine river, little flowers strewn across her body, white poppies on her dress next to ones turned red.
(if: $weapon is "hands")[[Not dead yet, though.->hands3]] (if: $weapon is "knife")[[Not dead yet, though.->knife3]] (if: $weapon is "opportunity")[[Not dead yet, though.->opportunity3]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands3.png"></div>]You straddle her, and take a moment to wonder at your limbs, the carmine stain on your fingerprints, the havoc you have wreaked with nothing but your own will. Realisations come to you, repeat over and over in your head like affirmations: //you are strong. You are powerful. You will be beautiful.//
She coughs weakly underneath you, and you bend over her, grabbing the neckline of her dress and tearing it down the middle to her hips. You’ll need the space.
[[>>->hands3.1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife3.png"></div>]You straddle her, brandishing the knife, reflections of the fairy lights on the walls gleaming on the surface. You caress her face with it, gently over a cheekbone, hear the faint scrape of it against her. She is pristine. She is perfect.
[[She will be even more so when you are done with her.->knife3.1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity3.png"></div>]You straddle her and take a moment to turn the trophy over in your hand. The base is coated in carmine, now, covering the shoddy paint job, remaking it into something new.
[[This will happen to her and you both soon enough.->opportunity3.1]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands3.1.png"></div>]“I- No, please,” she whimpers, helpless to stop what you’re about to do. She lifts one arm, winces, and it drops limply to the bed. That’s the problem with an injured torso. Everything else is connected to it.
You lower yourself over her, eye to eye, listening to her soft noises of discomfort, and kiss her cheek.
[[Then you rip another of her ribs from her sternum.->hands3.2]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands3.2.png"></div>She keens like an animal, thrashing pathetically, torn between trying to get away from you and the searing pain of moving. It’s not enough, though, to escape from between your legs, and it’s not enough to get you to stop.
You continue methodically. One side, then the other, then up, like unpicking stitches. At some point, you realise that she’s stopped moving, stopped making noises, stopped breathing beneath you. Her lungs must have collapsed. Or she’s lost too much blood from the way your grip on her bones shreds her skin. You’re not sure. You don’t think it matters, either.
[[>>->hands3.3]]<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraithands3.3.png"></div>The last ones are the worst - you have to dig your hands under her collarbones for leverage, and once they finally do pop out, the sternum comes loose. It just sits on the wreck of her chest, barely keeping together what little skin is still intact, the center of a spiderweb.
Almost there. Now, you just have to go back to each rib, crack them at her side and prop them upright so her rib cage becomes open, inviting, a house and home for you.
[[You have made her into a door. And you will finally come out of the dark.->hands3.4]]You lower yourself, headfirst, into the cavity you’ve made.
You almost expect it not to work. You almost expect to place your face into her, wet and warm but //still//, all that effort pointless. Almost. So it’s a little bit of surprise when, as your vision becomes clouded with her blood, you dive //into// her. She feels like molasses as you go, syrupy and sticky, sucking you into the emptiness you crafted. Your form liquifies, fills in gaps, slithers into crevices until you are her are full are satisfied.
[[>>->kill3]](t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitkillend.png"></div>]You open your eyes.
You are lying on the bed. You sit up, looking at your hands - they are unblemished, perfect, as is your dress, red, with little white flowers. You stand in limbs that feel (link-reveal:"almost")[$brackets[ //(almost)//]] like your own. You walk to the mirror.
In this perfect room, there is one perfect girl. She stares back at you in the reflection.
And she looks exactly like you.
<p class="end">END.</p>](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife3.1.png"></div>]You start with one little cut diagonally on her neck, from the scalene muscle to her collarbone. Shallow. Careful. You want her to drip slowly, not hemorrhage. You make another cut, parallel, lower. You drag the knife over her skin, relish in the way it splits beneath your tool, admire the marks you make. You keep going. And going. You travel across her body, gently push her dress out of the way before deciding to simply slice it down the middle, leaving her wearing it like a coat over underwear, the sultry surprise at the door.
[[>>->knife3.2]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife3.2.png"></div>]You trace carmine patterns all over, following the curves of her, the planes of her, the dips and divots and dimples. She whimpers underneath you. Sometimes, you allow yourself to draw your tongue over the lines you’ve made, press into her, taste her, but you do not allow yourself to get distracted.
Because she was art before. But now she is //your// art. Her beauty belongs to you. Her blood belongs to //you//.
[[>>->knife3.3]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife3.3.png"></div>]You shuffle back on your knees to take stock of your painting. She is no longer a girl. She is no longer a person at all. She is, simply, the result of your creation.
Is she dead, now? You’re not sure. You don’t think you’d be able to feel a pulse anywhere, anyway, bleeding out as she is.
[[That’s okay, though. You just needed to make enough room for yourself.->knife3.4]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitknife3.4.png"></div>]You make tiny cuts on your own skin, little markings to match her, on your arms, your legs, your torso. You score a thin vertical line into her forehead, and a horizontal one into yours. You calibrate yourself to her. You have already calibrated her to you. You place the knife down, finally, feeling its ghost in your hand even as you position yourself above her, aligning the incisions that link the two of you.
[[You take a deep breath in.->knife3.5]]And you let yourself sink.
You almost expect it not to work. You almost expect to drop and smash your face into hers, collide and collapse in a heap, all that effort pointless. Almost. So it’s a little bit of surprise when, as your body touches hers in all the right places, you sink //into// her. She feels like molasses as you go, syrupy and sticky, sucking you into the emptiness you crafted. Your form liquifies, fills in gaps, slithers into crevices until you are her are full are satisfied.
[[>>->kill3]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity3.1.png"></div>]Two-handed, you raise the trophy over your head, and you smash down into her other shoulder. She screams again, but it’s pitiful now, weak. Even so, you want to disable her arms first, cut off her wings, fell an angel.
She looks up at you, mouth parted, eyes listless. If the rest of her were covered, her face would give the impression of blissed-out pleasure.
It doesn’t matter, anyway, because now that she’s incapacitated, you can turn to your real target. You raise your arms behind your head again. Prepare for the fall. Her executioner.
[[And you bring it down as hard as you can onto her face.->opportunity3.2]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity3.2.png"></div>]And you do it again. And again. And again. All you know is the up-down seesaw of destruction, the primal continuation of your actions over and over and over and you become eerily aware of your shoulders, your collarbones, your muscles, while hers are broken and beaten. Her ruination is your revelation. It was always going to be this way.
[[>>->opportunity3.3]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity3.3.png"></div>]You lose track of time and lose track of yourself. When you finally shake out of your reverie, she is nothing but a body - her beautiful face is a stain on the bedspread, a splattering on the wall, a fine mist in the air. You open your mouth, eager to taste her head on your tongue like you’re catching snowflakes.
[[>>->opportunity3.4]](t8n:"flicker")[<div id="portrait"> <img src="images/GKportraitopportunity3.4.png"></div>]You toss the trophy aside and dig your hands into the puddle attached to her neck. You’re searching for her skull, what few fragments of it remain. There’s not much, but it’s enough for you to piece together a vague shape, enough for you to position bits on your own face over your own bones, enough for a funerary mask for the both of you.
[[You take a deep breath in.->opportunity3.5]]You lower yourself, headfirst, into the cavity you’ve made.
You almost expect it not to work. You almost expect to hit the bed, bone crunching and cutting your cheeks, all that effort pointless. Almost. So it’s a little bit of surprise when, as you close your eyes and pray for communion, you lower //into// her. She feels like molasses as you go, syrupy and sticky, sucking you into the emptiness you crafted. Your form liquifies, fills in gaps, slithers into crevices until you are her are full are satisfied.
[[>>->kill3]]But (link-reveal:"before you can act")[ $brackets[(before you choose to)]], she has grabbed something from the dresser behind her, rams it as fast as she can into your face and- //ow, fuck.// You stagger backwards, nose streaming, and either she got your left eye too or something close enough to it that your vision is flooded and bleary.
“Leave me //alone//!” she shouts, and you scramble (if: $weapon is "hands")[to grab her](if: $weapon is "knife")[for your knife](if: $weapon is "opportunity")[for the trophy], but she (if: $weapon is "knife" or "opportunity")[snatches it from you](if: $weapon is "hands")[sidesteps you].
[[Fuck.->hesitate3]]There’s a wild energy in her eyes that belies her wounds. She’s injured, sure, but she knows, now, that you’re beatable. That you have weaknesses. That you’re only- well, not human, but close enough. And you? You don’t have a backup plan. This was supposed to be perfect.
//Fuck fuck fuck fuck-//
You’re so caught up in your own panic that you don’t catch her slow approach, the tiger-like prowl of an animal escaped from its cage.
(if: $weapon is "hands")[[She pounces.->hands4]] (if: $weapon is "knife")[[She pounces.->knife4]] (if: $weapon is "opportunity")[[She pounces.->opportunity4]]You don’t know how she’s fighting you against the torture of her ribs being dislocated, but she attacks with abandon, raking at you with her nails and going for your neck, and all you can do is step back, dodge, dodge, block-
The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall, taking her with you, putting (link-reveal:"her on top.")[ $brackets[(If this weren’t life or death, you’d be excited.)]] You feel her claw your skin into shreds as you're forced to just defend yourself, unable to launch counterattacks because the second you leave your face open you know she’ll go for your eyes.
[[>>->hands4.1]]She moves with surprising agility for someone with an open stab wound, jabbing at you repeatedly with the knife, slashing through skin as you hold your arms up to defend yourself and mixing your blood with hers on the blade. All you can do is step back, dodge, dodge, block-
The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall, taking her with you, putting (link-reveal:"her on top.")[$brackets[ (If this weren’t life or death, you’d be excited.)]] The knife goes straight through your hand as you shield yourself with it and you hiss when she twists and rips it out.
[[>>->knife4.1]]Although she’s careful to not use the arm on the side of her broken collarbone, she’s ferocious with the other, swinging the trophy at you again and again, battering the arms you hold up to defend yourself. All you can do is step back, dodge, dodge, block-
The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall, taking her with you, putting (link-reveal:"her on top.")[ $brackets[(If this weren’t life or death, you’d be excited.)]] She smashes the trophy against the side of your head and you cry out, dizzied and dazed.
[[>>->opportunity4.1]]Then- one brief moment of respite. One millisecond pause. But you don’t relax, because you know that means she has a plan.
[[And she does.->hands4.2]]You feel her hands grip one of the arms you’re using as a shield, one hand just under the elbow, the other just above it, and-
You scream.
She’s wrenched the joint so hard that your forearm simply comes off as though unscrewed, blood pouring from torn vessels. Above you, she grins manically, your arm in her hands like a prize.
[[>>->hesitate4]]You try to push her off of you with your other hand, twisting underneath her like a bull, but she rides you easily and drops your severed limb in favor of gripping your attached one, the same way, fuck, //no//-
[[You scream again as your other arm comes off.->hesitate5]]Then- one brief moment of respite. One millisecond pause. But you don’t relax, because you know that means she has a plan.
[[And she does.->knife4.2]]You feel her grab the hand she just stabbed, pulling it up, straightening your arm and-
You scream.
She’s sliced your arm at the elbow so perfectly that it simply pops off like it was always detachable, blood pouring out from torn vessels. Above you, she grins manically, your arm in her hands like a prize.
[[>>->hesitate4]]Then- one brief moment of respite. One millisecond pause. But you don’t relax, because you know that means she has a plan.
[[And she does.->opportunity4.2]]You feel her hand grab one of your hands, pinning it to the bed until she can trap it underneath her knee, watch her raise the trophy high and bring it down and-
You scream.
She’s beating and beating and beating at your elbow until the joint is dust and she can pull your forearm off, as simply as if it were never attached with sinew at all, blood pouring out from torn vessels. Above you, she grins manically, your arm in her hands like a prize.
[[>>->hesitate4]]From there, it’s just dismemberment after dismemberment. She shreds your joints the way a tornado does houses, a flurry of inhuman energy and wrath. If it were anyone other than you, she wouldn’t be able to do this - a fact you take small comfort in. It was supposed to be //her//.
When she’s done, you lie on her bed, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding, unable to do anything but twist your neck and torso. She watches you wriggle, a bird with a worm.
[[She’s won. And she knows it.->hesitate6]]“I was so scared of you,” she says, a hint of disbelief in her voice as she leans over you, bloody hands coming to rest on either side of your face. “I was terrified of what you meant. I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to live as myself. I just wanted to be liked. And you were going to make me something too real and too honest.
But you’re so easy to squash down. So easy to beat. I can’t believe I wasted all that time thinking about you.”
(if: $weapon is "hands")[[She grabs the sides of your head and twists.->hesitate7]] (if: $weapon is "knife")[[She takes the knife to your throat and pushes.->hesitate7]] (if: $weapon is "opportunity")[[She holds the trophy high, then smashes it into your throat, over and over.->hesitate7]]“I won’t kill you. I think maybe you could come back, that way.” She picks your head up from where it’s been severed from your torso. “I’ll leave you here to fucking rot.”
Your body parts are strewn across her room. You see an arm here, a leg there, as she carries you, opens a door, places you gently onto the soft carpet of her closet. She lets you watch her collect your bits and pieces, stack them next to you, tortuously close but inert.
[[>>->hesitate8]](t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[She bends down, lifts you to her eye level one last time, a soft and secret smile on her face.
She kisses you.
And she leaves you alone in the dark forever.
<p class="end">END.</p>]