Noelle doesn’t know why the sudden urge to kill and mutilate Kris appeared in her head. Why it sat there festering, constantly speaking to her, worming its way into her thoughts and never letting her rest. The worst part was how something about it appealed to her.

It wasn’t an urge, desire, or want. It was something she had to do. She didn’t feel much thinking about it, but the more she thought about it the more it grew. She built a plan for it in her head, tucked it in the back of her mind, and thought about it often.

She thought about it the most when alone or at school. She’d zone out and think of every little detail: what she might need, how she’d do each step, where she’d do it, and the excuses she could use to get Kris to come over.

The only issue was that she never thought about what happened after. There was the morbid desire to cut into their body and examine their insides, but after that? Nothing. She couldn’t bring herself to care about it.

Maybe this started because something broke inside of her. It had been so long since Kris and her had actually talked or done something together, and the distance between them kept increasing. This could be some sick desire manifesting from wanting to connect again.

That’s probably why her main plan of action for getting Kris to come over again was to directly ask them if they wanted to. It’d be under the pretense of wanting to hang out again, to connect again. The thing she wanted for most of her life: she wanted her friend Kris back, the only person who truly understood her.

She stared at the ceiling while lying in bed, going over each part of the plan again. The only tool she would need was a knife, which she already got and hid under her bed. Thinking about it brought back that urge to hold and look at it again. Shuffling over to the edge of the bed and reaching underneath, she felt for the knife’s handle, grabbed it, and pulled it out.

Her face reflected in the flat blade of the kitchen knife. Putting it under her bed like that without something covering the blade at all was really stupid, but she didn’t care. It wouldn't be there for much longer. Her Mom didn’t seem to notice the missing knife yet, or she didn’t question or care why it was gone. A proper knife would be far better for this, but she didn’t want to arouse suspicion.

Studying human anatomy had almost become a hobby for her at this point, planning out the best spot to cut or stab at. The knife would be able to reach deep enough to hit something vital in one quick stab or cut, but if she messed up slightly or didn’t hit the mark exactly, it would ruin everything. It might be best to go for the carotid artery. One quick, smooth motion and Kris would be dead in seconds. They’d barely be able to understand they had died.

She frowned. It felt wrong that way, Kris not understanding what happened. Kris had to understand what happened. They would have to be alive for at least a minute, that would be enough time for Kris to realize and for Noelle to comfort them.

She looked at her reflection in the blade again and put it back under the bed.

Noelle was surprised Kris accepted her invitation to hang out at her house. It felt too simple and direct, but that might be why it worked. All they did was play old games in her room and she wasn’t sure if Kris was having any actual fun or enjoying this, but she kept up her cheery attitude.

Her cheery facade. Sometimes, she looked in the mirror and remembered she existed and had a face. She felt numb all over, inside and out, but she could slip on the mask of her old self like nothing had changed at all.

No one else seemed to notice a difference. If she cared it would have worried her, but no one seemed to figure out what she was planning. Sometimes she got the urge to tell others that she was going to kill and mutilate Kris, wondering if they would even react to it.

The hangouts flew by and quickly collected. She kept feeling a twinge of surprise whenever Kris came back. Maybe Kris knew what she was planning and also wanted it to happen. They seemed happier and more like their old self, even playing piano a few times.

It almost made her sad that Kris had to die, but wouldn’t it be better this way? They wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, free from their burdens of worrying about friendships falling apart, their family, people dying or disappearing, and the future. They would be happy.

She knew it was time during the seventh hangout. They were in her room studying together, everything splayed out on the floor, both of them joking and laughing. Kris had their back to their door, so all she had to do was get the knife, make up an excuse to get behind them, and then it’d be one quick motion.

She ‘accidentally’ dropped her pencil behind her in the middle of both of them laughing at some joke, letting it roll underneath her bed. She peeked back as she grabbed the knife, seeing Kris rolling around laughing for some reason. The joke wasn’t even funny, but she still laughed with them.

The knife rested under her shirt now, and she was well aware that one wrong movement would result in stabbing herself. She quickly said she had to use the bathroom, before she ‘peed herself laughing’. She didn’t know if her old self would say that; maybe the mask was finally breaking.

She actually did use the bathroom, washing the knife in the sink. She wanted it to be clean for Kris, it was the least she could do.

She splashed her face with water and turned the faucet off. Then, the thought of not going through with it appeared. Wasn’t it better this way? Even if she couldn’t feel anymore and nothing seemed real, Kris was happy again.

She looked at her reflection in the blade.

Kris had their back to her when she entered. They didn’t glance over as the door opened and closed. It felt like time slowed a bit as she walked up behind Kris, reaching out towards them.

She grabbed their hair, noting how Kris’ body reacted with a sudden small jump. Then, she pulled Kris’ head back as fast as she could, put the knife up to their throat, pushed the tip of it in as hard and deep as possible, and carved across in the opposite direction.

Blood splattered over their homework, her hand, Kris’ shirt, everything. Kris instinctively gripped their throat, letting out a bloody gurgle, letting her know something had been separated. Quickly, she swooped down to catch Kris in her arms as they fell forwards, dropping the knife.

“I’m so, so sorry, Kris.” She was crying but still felt numb. She turned Kris to face her, cradling them in her arms as they grasped at their throat, trying to stop the blood flowing out.

“It’s okay. It had to happen.” She brushed aside a few strands of hair that had gotten in the way of their eyes, staring at her and full of fear. She smiled and said, “You can relax now. I’m right here. I’ll be with you until the end.”

They tried to say something, but they were spasming too much and blood was pooling in their mouth, resulting in another gurgle. “Sh-sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, it’s okay… it’ll be over soon.” Kris was fading fast, eyes already half lidded and distant. The blood smear her hand left on their face as she cradled their head was beautiful to her.

“Everything is going to be okay, Kris. You’re going somewhere better.” She hoped Kris heard that. A few seconds passed and Kris was gone. Now it was just a body; a bloody corpse with nothing in it.

She had managed to get the best of both worlds, the slower and aware death with the quick throat cut. She hadn’t realized how bloody everything would get, however. It had quickly soaked into everything around them. She wished it could have lasted a little longer.

She held it for a while, just to be sure. Then she gently put it down, stood up, and stared at it. Some blood was still leaking out and they looked paler than before. It was hard to believe humans had this much blood. Her hands and arms were practically soaked in it and almost every bit of her felt like it had a spot of Kris’ blood somewhere.

Now, for the next part.

The kitchen knife might not be enough for this. Human bone, muscle, flesh, and ligaments are a lot to cut through for a kitchen knife. Still, if it did break, she could just get another one. Mom’s katana might work.

It felt bad taking Kris’ sweater off. Funny, she was about to perform a dissection on them, but that’s the part that made her feel bad. The cut across Kris’ stomach was so easy it surprised her.

She slowly cut, pulled, teared, examined, and repeated. Those horror movies had it all wrong. She felt stupid for being scared of them now, all the extreme gore in them was entirely wrong. None of them were nearly as close to this.

She was curious about the ribs, however. More cutting, more pulling, more tearing. Finally she found part of it and rubbed her finger against it. It felt smooth and slick, and the sudden urge to feel more overtook her.

Multiple pieces and lumps of flesh and muscle from Kris’ body were laying around her. It felt like after this, life would simply go back to normal, this moment never happening. She’d go to sleep, wake up, and Kris would be perfectly fine.

The right side of the rib cage was exposed with enough cutting and pulling back flesh. She still couldn’t believe how smooth it felt, even if that horrible slick feeling was there as well, likely from the cut away muscle and leftover blood.

Then, she realized what she wanted. The ribcage would be in the way, but she didn’t have to get through it. She could tunnel to it from underneath.

The knife still hadn’t chipped or dulled. She cut and tore out chunks, casually dropping them on the floor around her, not caring where they landed. Blood had soaked into everything and was practically leaking out of the carpet, her fur, and her clothes. It had a strange warmth to it.

She knew where it was, which made getting closer to it all the more terrifying. The rib cage was making it harder to get to it despite trying to go underneath it. She might not be able to cut enough away to get it out. She might have to tear it out.

Every cut she made had to be accurate now, any slight twitch could damage it. It felt like hours passed as she trimmed away muscle and arteries to clean it up as much as possible. It was like carving a statue.

Certain cuts were too hard. Anything that required specific angling along the ‘top’ of the chest wasn’t possible, but she had cut enough that it might be possible to pull out. She tossed the knife to the side, leaned down, pushed her hand in, and grabbed Kris’ heart the best she could.

She gently pulled to test how strong the still connected arteries were. There was a nice and firm resistance and she sighed, hoping she wouldn’t need to use both hands.

The only way she could describe the sounds it made as she pulled was ‘meaty tearing’. Her hand being slick with blood didn’t help, it caused her to accidentally lose her grip multiple times. She kept trying over and over, and something eventually made a snapping sound and she almost fell over backwards.

Kris’ heart was in her hands. The thing her mother and sister had obsessed over for most of their lives, but it didn’t look anything like the hearts they loved. That much was obvious from any anatomical diagram, but actually seeing it up close didn’t feel real. Maybe if she looked at it a certain way and squinted, it would look like one of them.

There were a few memories of her listening to this as it beat when she was a child. Now it was completely still. She squeezed it to see what would happen and some blood spurted out.

Now that she had done that she felt a bit complete, but didn’t need it any longer. Slowly, she put it down into the carved out stomach cavity, letting it rest there.

She looked at the knife and it was still sharp, still unchipped. She looked back at Kris’ body. They seemed almost peaceful, despite the mutilation she had committed. Their eyes were closed, lower jaw relaxed but not open. The gutted torso almost didn’t seem to matter and it was like they would wake up any second now.

Another idea appeared in her head and she quickly grabbed the knife. This one might have been a bit too far, but she had to know.

She started to cut along their right shoulder, slowly circling the knife around and removing all the muscle and ligaments. The idea felt too simple, but it might work exactly like she thought it would.

After she cut around more than half of the shoulder, she felt that was enough. Again, she tossed the knife away, grabbed Kris’ arm with both hands, and started to pull as hard as she could.

The ripping noise as Kris’ arm tore off might have made her vomit if she didn’t feel so completely numb. It sounded like someone ripped a piece of meat in half with their bare hands. She almost giggled when she saw the round ball of the arm socket; it felt comical compared to everything else.

But now what?

She looked at the arm she held, noting the weight of it. She looked at Kris’ body and what she had done to it, comparing it in her mind to how they looked before this. Slowly, she rested the arm down next to where it had been torn out, but left it separated.

There was blood everywhere. She was soaked and small spots of it had dried by now, causing this horrible crackling noise when she turned certain ways. There were chunks of Kris’ insides everywhere. She decided she didn’t want to be in here anymore and walked out of the room.

There was blood wherever she went as well. Bloody hoofprints, bloody hand prints, bloody trails and smears followed her everywhere. On the door knob, the carpet, the stair handrail. She was downstairs now. The couch felt like the perfect place to sit, its white color ready to soak in this red.

She sat down and stared at the wall in front of her, blankly. It was all starting to blend together. She kept asking herself why she had done this, what started this, what she got out of this, but she couldn’t answer any of it. She didn’t really care to answer any of it. It all felt so dull and pointless. She didn’t care what might happen now.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she heard the door open and close. She heard her mother’s hooves click across the floor, then suddenly stop.

“Hi Mom.” The entire couch was covered in smears of red. She was a mess. She didn’t want to look at her Mother.

It was quiet for a while, then Carol asked her what she had done, a voice mixed with motherly authoritarianism and extreme caution. Noelle opened her mouth to start explaining, but instead sighed and got up, trudging her way upstairs. She heard her Mom cautiously follow.

She sat on her bed and watched her Mother slowly examine each part of the scene. The blood, the body, the knife, the pieces of the body lying around, the separated arm, the heart where it shouldn’t be, Noelle, everything. It looked like she was taking it all in surprisingly well.

“Why?” was the only word that came out of Carol’s mouth. Noelle couldn’t think of a better reply than “I don’t know.” She really didn’t. Her Mother barely reacted to it, but the small facial twitches and the way her eyes slightly shifted told Noelle everything.

She didn’t bother to move when her Mom left the room, saying she ‘had to make a few calls’. Noelle knew her Mother couldn’t- wouldn’t cover this up. This was too much.

It felt peaceful sitting there. She thought about how everyone else would react to the news. Maybe she could sleep before they took her away.

They did a lot of tests on her and Mom wasn’t at any of them. She hadn’t heard anything about Dad.

She still didn’t feel much of anything. That desire was still a bit there, despite what she did to Kris. One night, the urge to kill Susie and split open her skull to look at her brain appeared. It began festering the same way it did with Kris.

Maybe she was broken. Something snapped, making her go crazy. Maybe she was always like this and it only revealed itself now, this disturbed part of herself.

They had cut her antlers off. It wasn’t painful, but having nubs instead felt strange. The medication was strange as well, constantly changing in shape, size, color, and markings. It never felt like it did anything.

This place wasn’t like the ones in the movies either. She had her own room, with a normal bed, a chair, cabinets, a closet, and even a window. They never allowed her near other patients however, and it seemed this rule applied specifically to her. They did let her watch from a distance.

She had her own special doctor as well, who she talked to through a plastic screen. The look on his face when they first talked was like he thought this was some kind of joke. He looked unnerved after around ten minutes of talking.

More visits from the doctor. More questions. More notes written down she couldn’t read. More new medicines.

The special doctor was really nice at first, and as time went on he became kinder, thinking she could be ‘saved’. Eventually after a few days of disturbing answers, stories, or dream retellings, he seemed to flip completely. He became cold, distant, and refused to be alone with her even with the screen separating them.

One time she heard him telling someone else about how she was the devil. That she had the face, eyes, and voice of an angel but was pure and utter evil, how you could see it in her eyes if you stared long enough. Maybe he was right.

Two months. That was how long it took to get her first visitor. She wondered if her Mom was pulling some strings to get her special privileges, but why would she?

Susie looked like she hadn’t slept for those two months. It felt strange talking face to face again, anything involving someone this close was always done behind a screen for the last two months.

After their opening hellos, they sat there staring at each other for a while. Susie kept fidgeting and glancing at spots on the ceiling. Maybe she was trying to figure out where the cameras were.

“You could probably crush my skull faster than they could stop you.” Noelle had thought it before but only said it now. It was half true, there were a few orderlies nearby and watching, ready to pounce if anything went even slightly wrong. Susie stared at her wide eyed. Her jaw was tight and slowly moving back and forth. Noelle thought she was considering it.

Eventually, Susie asked, “Why? Why did you… do that to Kris?” She glanced at one of the orderlies. Susie’s hands hadn’t left her jacket pockets the entire time and her right hand was playing with something. She was staring at Noelle, desperately trying to understand the whole situation.

Noelle shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” Susie looked at her with those wide eyes again and moved like she was about to get up, but caught herself and sat back down. They stared at each other in silence again.

Then Susie let out a scoff, saying, “You know what? Forget it. You’re not worth it.” Her right hand stopped fidgeting. “I hope you rot or that one of these other sickos kills you.”

Noelle watched her get up and start walking away. Remembering what she wanted to do to Susie, she realized now might be the only time to tell her. “I thought about killing you and looking at your brain.”

Susie stopped. Her right hand started fidgeting again and gripped onto the unknown object, her whole body stiff and ready to jump into action. Then, she relaxed and her hand loosened its grip.

She didn’t look at or say anything to Noelle as she left.

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Pub: 17 Aug 2025 00:59 UTC

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