Horror Fiction short story about a serial killer with a twist ending, written in first person and set in the rust belt of the great lakes in the early 1980
C: If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.
D: I need air.
C: Well, I told you. Don’t say I didn’t.
D: I need air.
C: You have air in here.
D: You know what I mean.
C: Yeah, I know. That’s why I said, don’t bother coming back.
D: Is that what you want?
C: I want you to not walk out that door.
D: Well, if you would stop suffocating me then I wouldn’t leave.
C: I have never —
D: Since the day we met, all you do is control every aspect of my life. I’m done.
C: Well, if you would be honest with me I wouldn’t have to.
D: So you admit it?
C: No.
D: You just did.
C: No, you were accusing me of suffocating you. FUCK!
D: Still —
C: I’m tired, I’m going to bed. Are you coming or going?
D: What if I do? What do you want then?
C: Just go. Just fucking go. I’m tired of this shit. Just fucking go. Fuck.
D: I won’t.
C: Listen. Stop it.
D: I’m not leaving.
C: It’s too late.
D: I haven’t left yet.
C: I’m tired of this. And you’re pissing me off.
D: It’s my place too.
C: Make up your mind.
D: I did, you just want a reason to be mad at me like you always do.
C: I’m not always mad at you.
D: Really? Well, it sure as fuck feels like it.
C: Get out before I call the police. I’m fucking done with these games.
D: Fine.
C: Fine.
D: I love you.
C: I love you too. Now go.
Is it a manifestation in our mind, something which forms when we think too much ? Is it something that we always need before starting something and when we are going through the dark days of our life…