InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Best Friends Forevor ❯ Best Friends Forevor ( One-Shot )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: WaitingForAPrince368 
ONE SHOT
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 11.27.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 789 | Visits: 283 | Status: Completed
ONE SHOT
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 11.27.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 789 | Visits: 283 | Status: Completed
BFF
When I first met Samantha she was the sickening image of a “good girl”. It wasn't an act for her. She was shy around guys and chatted friendly with all the girls in our class. I hated her so much. After a while though I noticed the potential she had. Whenever anyone in the class would start talking about a slasher movie she would get a gleam in her eye and she would ask questions to hear all about the gory details, but no one ever realized she craved hearing about dangling intestines, splattered brain matter, and coagulated pools of blood. She asked passive questions, and then squealed with fake disgust when she got her answers. I admired that in her.
Finally I confronted her about her perverse interests. Surprisingly, Samantha didn't deny it. Maybe it was because she saw me as someone she could finally relate to, what with my morbid attitude and thoughts I always pushed on our classmates. I suggested that we talk about her true self and the potential I saw in her. We became good friends.
We never hung out at school, and I didn't mind because at school she was the “good girl” that had me rushing to the bathroom to set free the tuna from my lunch. We spent our afternoons in my room reviewing all of the brilliant serial killers, their victims, and our desires for another great killer to finally come into the open. We took a blood oath, swearing to one another that we would never share what was said in my room to anyone, under punishment of dismemberment by the other.
After that oath everything became more serious. Our meetings lasted for ours, but Samantha remained faithful. I began to notice that her smiles at school looked false. I was so proud. Perhaps Samantha was starting to realize that the “good girl” was just an act. I knew at that moment that could tell her my plans. Unfortunately I told her too soon.
She laughed in my face when I told her how we were going to be the best serial killer duo there ever was. I was serious and when she realized that she left. She didn't come over for any more meetings. When I tried to talk to her over the phone she would shout obscene things at me. She still hadn't broken the oath so I left her alone for a while.
I stopped going to school, and soon after that I ran away from home. I decided to try to talk to her again. I followed her home a few days later. She was walking with a boy from school. She was giggling and her smile looked genuine. That made me vomit. When they got to her house the boy kissed her then jogged down the street. When she unlocked the front door I pushed her inside.
When she saw it was me she started screaming and threatened to call the police and tell them everything. I brought the carving knife I’d stolen years ago out of my coat and held it in front of her face. The fear in her eyes was so pathetic, but it brought a grin to my face that made her start crying. Her tears made my adrenaline rush. I regretted not having brought a camera with me.
The first three stabs pierced her heart, or at least I hope they did. The shock that came over her prevented her from fighting back, unfortunately. I watched the blood, her crimson life energy, soak through her shirt. The last four stabs were to her face. I didn’t want Samantha to look like a “good girl” for her mother at her funeral.
When I finished I rinsed off my knife and slipped it back into my coat pocket. I quickly made sure that the plastic hair net and shower cap I was wearing hadn’t come loose and let any of my hair escape. Then, with my hands still wrapped in a pair of latex gloves under my leather gloves, I dragged Samantha to her bedroom and laid her on her bed. Before I went back to look for anything I may have missed, I etched my first calling card, BFF, into the palm of her hand.
A few weeks later I started at a new high school, and moved into my first apartment. I read about myself in the paper. I went into a laughing fit when none of the investigators knew that BFF meant best friends forever. I guess I’ll have to make it obvious on the new Samantha, Megan, who is coming over later.
When I first met Samantha she was the sickening image of a “good girl”. It wasn't an act for her. She was shy around guys and chatted friendly with all the girls in our class. I hated her so much. After a while though I noticed the potential she had. Whenever anyone in the class would start talking about a slasher movie she would get a gleam in her eye and she would ask questions to hear all about the gory details, but no one ever realized she craved hearing about dangling intestines, splattered brain matter, and coagulated pools of blood. She asked passive questions, and then squealed with fake disgust when she got her answers. I admired that in her.
Finally I confronted her about her perverse interests. Surprisingly, Samantha didn't deny it. Maybe it was because she saw me as someone she could finally relate to, what with my morbid attitude and thoughts I always pushed on our classmates. I suggested that we talk about her true self and the potential I saw in her. We became good friends.
We never hung out at school, and I didn't mind because at school she was the “good girl” that had me rushing to the bathroom to set free the tuna from my lunch. We spent our afternoons in my room reviewing all of the brilliant serial killers, their victims, and our desires for another great killer to finally come into the open. We took a blood oath, swearing to one another that we would never share what was said in my room to anyone, under punishment of dismemberment by the other.
After that oath everything became more serious. Our meetings lasted for ours, but Samantha remained faithful. I began to notice that her smiles at school looked false. I was so proud. Perhaps Samantha was starting to realize that the “good girl” was just an act. I knew at that moment that could tell her my plans. Unfortunately I told her too soon.
She laughed in my face when I told her how we were going to be the best serial killer duo there ever was. I was serious and when she realized that she left. She didn't come over for any more meetings. When I tried to talk to her over the phone she would shout obscene things at me. She still hadn't broken the oath so I left her alone for a while.
I stopped going to school, and soon after that I ran away from home. I decided to try to talk to her again. I followed her home a few days later. She was walking with a boy from school. She was giggling and her smile looked genuine. That made me vomit. When they got to her house the boy kissed her then jogged down the street. When she unlocked the front door I pushed her inside.
When she saw it was me she started screaming and threatened to call the police and tell them everything. I brought the carving knife I’d stolen years ago out of my coat and held it in front of her face. The fear in her eyes was so pathetic, but it brought a grin to my face that made her start crying. Her tears made my adrenaline rush. I regretted not having brought a camera with me.
The first three stabs pierced her heart, or at least I hope they did. The shock that came over her prevented her from fighting back, unfortunately. I watched the blood, her crimson life energy, soak through her shirt. The last four stabs were to her face. I didn’t want Samantha to look like a “good girl” for her mother at her funeral.
When I finished I rinsed off my knife and slipped it back into my coat pocket. I quickly made sure that the plastic hair net and shower cap I was wearing hadn’t come loose and let any of my hair escape. Then, with my hands still wrapped in a pair of latex gloves under my leather gloves, I dragged Samantha to her bedroom and laid her on her bed. Before I went back to look for anything I may have missed, I etched my first calling card, BFF, into the palm of her hand.
A few weeks later I started at a new high school, and moved into my first apartment. I read about myself in the paper. I went into a laughing fit when none of the investigators knew that BFF meant best friends forever. I guess I’ll have to make it obvious on the new Samantha, Megan, who is coming over later.