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Hurt © NIN
words © zansbitch
Hurt; lyrics © NIN : Image © Gettyimages
07.27.03 [MY BLOODY VALENTINE]
She followed the woman carefully under the cloak of night. The other woman walked with a grace she didn't possess, and she hated the woman for it. She hated the woman's blond hair and green eyes. Most of all she hated the way the woman always got everything she wanted. The woman stopped at a corner newstand by her apartment building, but she continued on to wait for her inside the apartment stairwell. The bitch was going to pay for what she had done to her.

The woman made her way to her building pausing to search for the key in her purse. The woman entered the and shut the lobby door behind her and walked up the stairs. She watched as the woman came closer to her hiding position and let the woman pass her in the cold greyness of the staircase. As the woman stepped one front in front of her, she followed the woman to her apartment door. As the woman opened the door, she attacked, pushing the woman into the room and closing and locking the door behind them.

The woman screams were cut short by the blade slicing across her neck. Blood flowed in crimson waves onto the woman's expensive business suit. The woman gagged on her breathe, muddled with her own blood and quietly bleed to death. When she was sure the woman was dead, she cute the stained clothing from her body haphazardly. She plunged the six inch blade into the woman's chest and began to dissect.

The woman's face was barely recognizable when the police found her. The woman's eyes, tongue and ears had been removed and deep gashes criss-crossed on her cheeks offset by the bluish hue the woman's lips had taken on. The word "whore" was carved into the woman's abdomen. The walls of the apartment's living room were newly painted with the woman's blood in unknown shapes and meanings. No one in the building had heard a sound.

*******************************

The man was contemplating going to the police. He had recieved a package the night before via messenger. A small white box adorned with a red bow and no note. He had opened the box to find white tissure covering the contents. He pulled back the paper and to his horrorr the box contained eyes. Human eyes, green eyes. A slip of paper bared the noted, scribbled in a shaky hand: "see no evil".

The man decided her must report this to the police and as he was about to exit his house the doorbell rang again. It was the same messenger from last night and he carrieda similiar white box. The man opened the door and signed for the package, again there was no note on the outside. The man questioned the messenger about it's origins, but the messenger had no clue. The messenger just assumed it was some elaborate Valentine's gift, the holiday was one more day away. The man tipped the messenger and sent him on his way before stepping back into his house. He set the box on his kitchen counter, afraid to open it, but his curiousity beat out the fear.

Carefully he untied the red ribbon bow, open the lid and pulled back the white tissue paper. His fear was warrented, the box contained two ears. They were dainty and pierced. The earrings looked familiar, his girlfriend had a pair just like them. Then dawned on him, he knew who the eyes and ears used to by attached to and he knew who was responsible for removing them. She was crazier than he thought she was. The was a note scribbled in the same handwriting: "hear no evil". His doorbell rang again, only this time the police were there.

An hour later, the police knew who they were looking for and they knew why. The police had seen the morbid care packages. The police confessed their condolenscences to the man about losing his girlfriend in such a horrible manner and excused themselves. The man lead them to the door and the officers stopped to give the man their phone number in case he could remember anything more. As the man took the number, the messenger van pulled in the drive again.

Again, the same white box with red ribbon and white tissue, and although the contents were different, they were no less appalling. Inside the box, nestled softly in the tissue paper was a tongue, her tongue. The note read: "speak no evil".

The police gathered the boxes to take back to the lab and finally made their leave. Afterwards, the man broke down into sobs, he couldn't believe this was happening. He was supposed to take her to dinner tomorrow for Valetine's Day, he was going to propose. He thought he had finally gotten rid of his ex-girlfriend and her stalking tendencies. Obviously, he had been mistaken. The man went to the wet bar and poured himself a drink, then another and then another. No more boxes arrived that night, and the man breathed a sigh of relief. He passed out on the couch in sorrow.

He was woken the next afternoon by the doorbell ringing insistantly. He figured it was the police with more information and he swung the door open expectantly. Instead of the police, there stood the messenger once again. Again, no note, just that ominous white box. Again, the man took the box into the kitchen. Again, he carefully untied the ribbon, lifted the lid and pulled back the paper.

It was heart...her heart, still dripping blood. The words, "I LOVE YOU", were carved into it and teh tiny slip of paper bared the same scribbled handwriting: "be my valentine".....
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