Medee Monologue

Rowena flew her hand around her mother’s neck, covering her mouth with her hand, yanking her back into the shadows. Before her mother could even scream, she sank the tip of the blade into her chest excruciatingly slow. Rowena twisted the blade in her hands, sinking it deeper and deeper. As the rotated the knife sharply, the sound of her mother’s nerves and muscle being torn apart grew louder. The sound of her muffled screams filled Rowena with a pleasure she had never felt before. Her cry was a mesmerizing sound, soft whimpers mixed with agonizing choking, blood spilling out of her mouth and onto Rowena’s hand like a fountain. She sank to her knees, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal. Scarlet liquid

So, Muncie, Rochester, Holley and Budgie, beautiful names! I like Rochester and Holley but all of them are very lovely, and how did you do to chose the names of your cats? Was each name chosen between you both? or you chose the names for some of them and your wife chose names for the rest', in my home the second option always won, haha!!!

He turned his head. With features distorted in pain, he looked directly at her. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable. His mouth began to move. She couldn’t hear any words. There was only silence. His hand rose wavering beckoning her to come closer.

My heart sank, sadness engulfed me yet the tears never came. I bit my lip until it turned white in an effort to mask my quivering lips. She turned and saw me, kindness evaporated from those brown eyes, as the verdict was confirmed with that cold icy look, she walked off

The knife is in my jacket. She ignores what I’m doing, accustomed to it. She has sat up on the side of the bed to look at herself in the mirror. I keep the knife down until I’m behind her. Her eyes barely have time to register as fear before her throat is cut. She bleeds out onto the bed. I wipe my prints off what I’ve had to touch and leave. When the hour’s up she’ll be found and I’ll be at home in my bed and these clothes will be

"Honey........ sweetie." a older voice echo though out the hall. " are you okay? you not …...hurt... this time?" sighing under her breath "it going to be okay" she whispered softly, not wanting her son to hear. as a single tear drop slide down upon her rosy red cheeks. "sniff........sniff....sob" softly escape with every quivering breath. covering her mouth, afraid he will hear. wiping every loose tear, to late, water droplets staining her dark blue denim skirt. exposing her worry, her

She never cried for so long. Her heart felt like a crumbled piece of paper, like it could never be fixed again. She would cry and cry like a never ending story. The pain of this situation would hurt her more than anything she thought. She thought that it was the worst thing that could happen to her. What she didn’t know was that it was only the beginning.

“No, no please stop!” Her sweet innocent voice cried, begging for the killer to stop. She struggled and begged for mercy, for life. The killer’s hands were covered in thick rosy red blood. He dragged the knife along her throat, dots of blood covering his face, clothes drenched in red.

this forceful smile she tried so hard to keep on, I looked into her weary eyes, and fear, worry, and

He heard the light click of shoes on the footpath and his head jerked to the said. Through the blur of tears caught in lashes he could make out the face of a woman. He held up a hand hoping she would understand that there wasn’t any need for her to come closer. He appreciated the sympathy, but it hurt his pride to be seen in such a state. His legs felt weak and he put his hand back against the wall.

Blood. Ablazing red ran through my veins. The feeling of acrimony possessed me and rage blinded my sensibility. I stared straight ahead and got loss in my memories that held me back from moving on. I ran straight ahead towards the man. The man I once loved and respected, but now he is nothing but a pusillanimous monster. The blood seeped through the cracks. As tears slipped down my face, we both charged towards each other as I kept my pain held back.

Once at the bottom of the stairs I could not believe my eyes. Mom and Dad were on the ground. Blood spilled out of wounds that were covered by clothing, their eyes dull and lifeless. Mom’s hand was outstretched to Dad, like she’d been trying to say goodbye one last time.

"She sits in front of her virginal white vanity as she paints her soft lips with a color as red as the blood spilled from them the night before and sets her pale powder over the cut right above her blonde, dainty eyebrow with a delicate hand to hide it from the naked eye. Her face wrinkles in a wince as the soft pads of her fingers press a little too strongly, reopening the wound. Soon after, all her recent bruises and cuts are hidden properly, she flashes a fake, yet mesmerizing smile, showing the tips of her white teeth to the mirror as she fixes her hair. But if you look close enough, you can almost see the sadness and fear reflected in the brilliant blue waters of her eyes and in the worry lines on her youthful face. She stands and

Startled, she turned her head towards me, and for the first time, I could see her eyes from up close. They were simply marvelous, like a stormy night sky clashing against azure sea. But a layer of shiny tears glazed over them, and I somehow felt my heart clench at the sight.

The face she had, a look of desperation and quickly turning into sadness once I started to stab her repeatedly until she started to cough up blood; her cold, sticky, scarlet red blood coughing up from her mouth as she started to slowly fall down on the black carpet.