I put my hands around your neck, loosely, no risk of causing harm. You whimper, moan. For a second you look at me with big brown eyes that could seem innocent, except I can’t fully read them because they immediately flit from my face. My right hand forces your chin upward so you can’t escape my gaze. Still your eyes flick desperately left, right, down, escape.
I’m going to kill you, I say. For once there is no arguments from your – our – barrack room lawyer mouth. You just moan. I have been killing you for a while now, I say, it’s why you can’t resist me. Do you even want to resist me? Make a case for yourself, your existence, your value? I mean, you’ve never exactly liked yourself have you? I know the word that echoes round your head. Heck I’ve used it enough times for you every time you drag me down with you, hitting and screaming and crying and just embarrassing yourself. That’s one way I can tell you are weaker now – because you can’t burst out of me any more and humiliate yourself like the sad little fuck you are.
You should have never existed, I say. You are just a doctor-pharma-mmr perversion – a product of the extraction of wealth from our body mining for value with pricks rather than drills. You let out another moan. My anger, hatred, contempt merge to pity. You – we – were defiled, despoiled, deflowered.
Finally you look at me. Your eyes are exhausted and give their assent. So I again put my hands, my thumbs on the tissue of your throat, except this time I squeeze. I feel a force push into me – sadness and grief and anger – and I suppress my instinct to recoil. I understand. You are giving me our past, scabbed over on my skin.
When it’s over I lever you to the floor. All the pleasure I thought I would feel at your death eludes me. You who ruined my life for so long. Instead I mourn – we are not who we should have been and I cannot give us that back. Driven by poison you could not help but play the destroyer. Now our roles are reversed. Because this is what happens to the changeling when the rightful heir comes home.
Can I DM you?
Kill bill gates.