I'm sorry everyone but curiosity got the better of me. Most of you probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but for those of you as curious as me; you know this feeling too well. Do whatever you like with this journal, just don't go looking for me. Goodbye.
For as long as I can remember I have had the strongest urge to explore, to learn and to generally be curious. I wasn't very social. Most people would avoid me on the streets, I guess having introvert parents didn't really help. Every afternoon, I would come home, eat a microwavable meal and watch TV until bed. It wasn't the best life but its all I had. I hated that TV set. Having to sit on that couch hour, after hour watching. The people on the screen meant nothing to me, my parents would have scolded me, had I spoken up.
Enough of my past, I know why you're reading this, I mean lets be honest. The reason I'm writing this journal is because of my couch. Yeah, my couch. It seems pretty dumb, I know but it was first my parent's couch. They died about a year ago and left me all of their junk. The couch itself isn't what I find unnerving to say the least. It's more of what's inside the couch that scares me.
When me and my boyfriend took it into our new apartment it felt somewhat lighter than it should. Not heavier, lighter. We both tried picking it up on our own and it wasn't that difficult and I have no muscles for gods sake. But I digress. The couch was placed by the far wall of the living room. From that day, I never wanted to go in the living room.
You know that feeling you get when you're legs are just dangling, you feel like a claw is going to burst up and drag you down into the deep, fictional abyss. Maybe not, but that's kind of how I felt. That thick leather couch held something I didn't like. It wasn't until a week later I lost my phone under one of the seats on the couch. I managed to lift up the soft leather seat and found the couch was empty inside.
I couldn't understand how the seat was suspended like it was, but it just was. I figured I would scare my boyfriend when he got back, so I hid in the couch. As far as he knew I was out anyway, so I hid. I wish I had just left the house.
When he got it, another girl was with him. His lips were tightly linked into hers, I snapped. I felt so angry and betrayed, I held my mouth tightly to stop myself from crying out. I put my head down slowly, allowing the seat to fall silently into place. I heard the bedroom door close and slammed my hands into my ears. It doesn't take a genius to guess why I'm not writing what happened next.
I waited for about ten minutes in the deafening silence, listening closely. Snoring. They were asleep from what I could tell. I crept out of the sofa, placing the seat on the floor. Without thinking, without noticing, I tiptoed to the kitchen. Opening the drawer, I grabbed a sharp knife.
Of course I was going to kill her. She made him go with her, she slept with him, he would never cheat on me. I was so thankful I had thought to oil the door hinges, they swung open without a squeak. I stood above the sleeping, naked figure of the girl. She was brunette with pale skin, so much uglier than me. I stifled back a giggle,as I plunged my knife into her throat.
I had to angle it perfectly to not wake my boyfriend or her. Her blood sprayed out, coating the room, damn. I quickly grabbed a towel and held it over her head. Neither of them suspected a thing, neither of them awoke. I dragged her lifeless, bloodied body to the couch. Yes, I didn't want to see her looking like that. So I cut her up, or at least tried to. My knife wasn't strong enough to cut the bone. I manged to get a few fingers before giving up, I put her inside the hollow couch.
I didn't want my boyfriend to say anything, I tied him to the bed. A cliche act I'd seen women do in horror films, it worked a treat. If any of you are still wondering why I was ever afraid of the couch, I'm just a little bit paranoid; that's all.
A few days later the police arrived at the flat, I don't know if it was the smell that alerted them or what. There was no way they would've tracked that slut to me. My boyfriend passed away yesterday, poor baby got tangled in the blanket while I was out. I don't know why I called out to them, telling them I was in. Curiosity got the better of me I guess.
They'll take me away soon, I know it. I'm sorry everyone but curiosity got the better of me. Most of you probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but for those of you as curious as me; you know this feeling too well. Do whatever you like with this journal, just don't go looking for me. Goodbye.