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Description
Sleeping Beauty

I can see him coming even through my closed eyelids.

He gets closer and closer to the bed, panting like an animal from the hundred steps, and I can smell the sweat and dirt come off him in waves that make my nostrils flare. But I stay perfectly still, keep my eyes sealed shut. He comes to me, and his dirty fingers explore me, spreading his filth all over my clean body. How can he?

He doesn't notice at all where my hand rests.

Over me he breathes hard and pulses, and I hate him for it.

The first was to supposed to be the perfect one, the pure. I wanted him to be so... perfect. But he wasn't. He scratched my face with his dirty, unshaven cheeks, and bruised my skin with rough fingers. He ruined my dream. What could I do but wait for another?

Finally he gets off me, let's me breathe again. He puts my heels together, and smoothes out my dress; they all do that, as if they think it makes a difference. Then, as if to seal the deal, he goes to kiss me, and I can smell his foul breath, and feel his unceremoniously opened eyes.

My fingers tighten on the handle of the axe under my thigh.

He presses his dry, tasteless lips to mine, expecting me to arise and thank him, expecting me to be his forever. I can take no more of this.

I bring the axe down on him, my practised hand hitting hard and just. His yells and blood splatter my dress and face, but I don't mind anymore. He finally stops screaming and only the blood remains. He falls to the ground in a loud thud. I smile shakily, tucking the axe back under me, tucking myself back into bed. He'll have long turned to dust by the time the next one comes along.

I don't even have to open my eyes anymore.

Description
Sleeping Beauty

I can see him coming even through my closed eyelids.

He gets closer and closer to the bed, panting like an animal from the hundred steps, and I can smell the sweat and dirt come off him in waves that make my nostrils flare. But I stay perfectly still, keep my eyes sealed shut. He comes to me, and his dirty fingers explore me, spreading his filth all over my clean body. How can he?

He doesn't notice at all where my hand rests.

Over me he breathes hard and pulses, and I hate him for it.

The first was to supposed to be the perfect one, the pure. I wanted him to be so... perfect. But he wasn't. He scratched my face with his dirty, unshaven cheeks, and bruised my skin with rough fingers. He ruined my dream. What could I do but wait for another?

Finally he gets off me, let's me breathe again. He puts my heels together, and smoothes out my dress; they all do that, as if they think it makes a difference. Then, as if to seal the deal, he goes to kiss me, and I can smell his foul breath, and feel his unceremoniously opened eyes.

My fingers tighten on the handle of the axe under my thigh.

He presses his dry, tasteless lips to mine, expecting me to arise and thank him, expecting me to be his forever. I can take no more of this.

I bring the axe down on him, my practised hand hitting hard and just. His yells and blood splatter my dress and face, but I don't mind anymore. He finally stops screaming and only the blood remains. He falls to the ground in a loud thud. I smile shakily, tucking the axe back under me, tucking myself back into bed. He'll have long turned to dust by the time the next one comes along.

I don't even have to open my eyes anymore.