Bad Bunny

Bad Bunny

A Story by Deadaisycat
"

A young Rae'vie girl goes out and has some nice playtime with a brand new friend

"
The metal clinked against the concrete floor, as I dragged the fire axe behind me, taking one step at a time, falling forward, advancing, rather than walking. I was uninjured, unlike the poor woman in front of me. This tool was surprisingly more effective than I thought it would be. At this point I was almost doing a good thing, since she would have died a much slower death, considering you can't really live if you have been hacked in half from the stomach down. Still, though, she was crawling away. It's actually kind of inspiring to me. Even though she has no chance to escape, and her organs are sliding out with each pull, she was still trying to get away. Maybe she didn't realize she was only half herself? No, as effective as the now-scarlet-soaked weapon was, it still took a good minute or two to chop through all that bone and flesh. And with how much she screamed out in agony as her flesh was separated, I highly doubt she didn't know. Perhaps her mind made her forget it? I did read that people tend to block out events that their mind deems 'too scary' for them. I don't know why though. Wouldn't make more sense to remember that there's a serial killer chasing you, and that you can't run away? Actually, that's an interesting thought in of itself... I'm a serial killer now. Not even a week ago I was just a little, innocent girl, helping run the family store... Hahaha, that's a fond memory, though it seems so long ago. The first kill made me a murderer. I'm not even sure why I did it. What compelled me to grab this tool which had recently become my best friend. To break the glass of old lady Gersamine's home. To stagger towards her, much like how I am now, though with a bit more life, I think, and to raise the wooden handle high, and bring it down upon her frail skull, ending her long, happy life. After that, I know why I continued. Watching life drain from people's eyes, watching the body they try so hard to protect just... fall apart. 
It was like a drug to me.
From then, I know why I did it a second time. On another elder, one I didn't even know. They were slow targets, they didn't move much, and maybe I felt less guilty, since they were already going to die soon anyway. But after the third kill, yet another old geezer who had met a terrible fate, I had my fourth, and it was simply orgasmic. A young man, who I presume to be the child or grandchild of my recent victim, rushed at me, in a vain attempt to avenge his relative, I assume. Without even thinking, I swung my axe, leaving a huge gash across the side of his face. When he fell over, he began to cry, he grabbed his face in pain, and, at that point, my addiction grew. It grew past simple killing. I found a new love. A love for torture.
I walked up to him, as he crawled away, a desperate attempt to get further from the monster in his home, and I giggled. Then I chuckled, laughed, and I screeched my joyous insanity out, letting my murderous cackle fill his head and heart with pure, unfiltered terror. And after I calmed down, I stared back at him with a huge grin, and said, for the first time, my new catchphrase.
"I'm a bad, bad bunny..." 

At this point, he started to scream, and I started to chop.
And chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Til nothing remained but a blood-stained carpet, and tear-stained chunks of flesh. Then on, I didn't instantly kill my toys like I did the oldies. And I didn't even choose "easy" ones either. I wanted more. the younger they were, the stronger they were, meant more life to watch drain, more panic, more fear... more unparalleled, unmatched, pure, JOY. And this woman before me, was no different.
In the time I had spent reminiscing about fond memories, my new toy had actually managed to crawl herself back into a corner. She also seemed to finally realize that even if she managed to escape, her organs falling out would end up being a problem for her. Most of them were already scraped across the floor where she had dragged her near-corpse body, I think a little bit of her liver was still on the bottom of my foot. It was so funny to me, watching her desperately trying to pull her entrails back in, she wasn't even paying attention to what she was putting into herself, blood, pebbles, even dirt. she wanted to fill the gaping hole, or rather half, missing from her body.
It was getting late, however, and I needed to get home, shower, and clean up before my family returned home, so I decided it was time to wrap things up. I walked up to her, giggling at the terror in her eyes, grabbed her adorable ears and pulled her up, before chopping them off with a swing. The scream was wonderfully painful. It was even better to me, because I know any Rae'vie girls' ears were her treasure, they put almost as much care into the fluffy things as their own hair. I'm no exception. But the tiny stubs left on her head made for a great target to practice on. One chop, two the left, and it went straight through to her eye. The fact that it didn't kill her outright surprised me, and delighted me, as this meant I could keep chopping, watching the fear in her cold, near-dead eyes. I chopped through the other stub this time, and the axe went in just as smoothly, giving her a pretty "V" shape in her skull. One last chop straight through the middle, and her soul finally couldn't hold on any longer. I wiped the small piece of brain that shrapnel'd itself to me face, and left the house, laughing.
My dad's going to be horrified by the serial killer's latest work when he'll get yet another emergency call out here in the morning. It brings me joy to picture my father so sickened. Though, maybe he's like me... and loves it. Maybe he's like me, and wants to keep seeing all these corpses. Maybe he became a police officer for these reasons, and knows I'm the one responsible, and hasn't turned me in because he wants to keep seeing my wonderful work!
Oh I hope so.

© 2017 Deadaisycat


Author's Note

Deadaisycat
First time writing a narrative like this, so I imagine it's a steaming pile of crap, plip. Please tear it to shreds, give me everything wrong with it, so I can improve, plip. I may also create another piece continuing it if there's interest, or just a re-written version.

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There are a few spelling errors but over all it's a great story!

Posted 3 Years Ago



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Added on February 1, 2017
Last Updated on March 3, 2017
Tags: Deadaisy, deadaisycat, daisycat, d34daisycat, d34daisy, story, murder, bunny, bad, bad bunny, killer, serial killer, torture, axe, blood, terror, fear

Author

Deadaisycat
Deadaisycat

Lawrence, IN



About
My name is Daisy, I'm 17, I am probably mentally ill, bisexual and I enjoy writing short stories and poems, plip. I'm also a gaming lover, so... yeah. I also always take requests, so fire away plip... more..

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