Rapture

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. It’d been written on my invitation.

Thinking, “Fuck them,” I opened the door and quickly stepped inside the room.

After seeing Chelsea, on Conrad’s lap, dry humping him as she stared into my eyes with hatred, I had to get the hell out of there.

Two weeks ago she’d screamed Conrad’s name as her body, joined with mine, shook uncontrollably through her orgasm. I thought, “What the fuck; before fucking her again.

She should have been screaming my name not that piece of shit’s name.

The morning after, she’d screamed in my face calling me a rapist. I knew she was drunk and I should’ve stopped but I couldn’t. She’d been my fantasy for years and nothing could have stopped me from fulfilling that fantasy.

**

As the door closed behind me I was left in darkness except for two tiny lights that shined on a painting.

It was titled, “Rapture.”

Moving forward I could see that the floor was covered in sheet plastic. A chill ran up my spine as I got close and saw that it was two paintings on one canvas. The right side depicted a man and woman in the throes of passion but the left showed a man hanging from a ceiling hook, wearing a crucifix, with his stomach sliced open and his intestines spilling down to the floor.

Just as I looked up to see the hook with a set of handcuffs hanging there, the door opened and I felt a surge of electricity that knocked me to my knees.

My body couldn’t move as I watched Chelsea and Conrad walk towards me. She was carrying a large knife and wearing a grotesque smile that could only be described as “Rapture!”

**