Chapter 1.

When I opened my eyes, having just woken up, I was still in a rather groggy state. The first thing I discovered was a black reflective screen; in simple terms, of course, it was none other than my laptop. When I recalled the last thing I did, it all came back to me. After I’d discovered that thread, I’d done a bit more research into the strange rumor in circulation related to the creepypasta ghost girlfriend from the VHS tape.

When I regained clarity of mind, I realized something felt very strange. It was like a sort of sixth sense I’d developed over the years after all my failed relationships with women. I suddenly had a frightening thought; what if I suddenly turned around and there just so happened to be the scary ghost girlfriend waiting for me?

It was only when I listened to the background sounds that I noticed light breathing coming from directly behind me. Trickles of chill-inducing cold sweat ran down my back. I was struck by a creeping fear. As an atheist, I was adamantly against the thought of discovering an actual ghost. Rather than the creepy ghost girlfriend in rumors, the rational side of me thought of a far more terrifying possibility.

I gulped down a pool of saliva which at some point accumulated in my mouth and bent the laptop monitor’s screen slightly towards me so I could see the reflection of whatever was behind me. The moment my eyes landed on the figure’s reflection, my face paled, my expression warped and an intense sense of dread crept into my heart. It was far worse than I could have ever imagined. The person was someone I knew quite well and was easily identifiable, it was none other than, Adele Homestalk, in other words, my first psychotic ex.

“Darling, why are you looking at me with eyes like that?”

“Because you’re batshit crazy!”

Just to be clear, I didn’t have enough courage to look her in the eyes when saying that. I could only say it while petrified in place with my gaze locked onto the deceptively fair face reflected off of my laptop’s monitor. Seeing her face after such a long time apart, I took in deep breaths, hyperventilating while countless terrifying memories of our time together ran through my mind.

“Why would you say something so hurtful, Darling, you’re my beloved boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“No! No! NO! Don’t try that! We broke up over five years ago!”

“Broke up? With who?”

“With the crazy broad holding a knife in her hand who’s supposed to be locked up in a mental asylum!”

“Oh. You mean this?”

“Yes, that. What else could I mean?! Also, don’t just ignore the most important part at your own convenience! You’re supposed to be in a mental asylum! How the hell did you escape?” 

“I thought I would just come out to visit and cook you a nice meal since it's been so long since we’ve seen each other. I figured it would be a nice change of pace sneaking out and paying a visit to my significant other after enduring the trials and tribulations of separation over such an extended period of time. By the way, Darling, you look rather hungry. What would you like your last supper to be?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The way she hadn’t blinked once throughout our entire exchange, with her eyes locked on the back of my head the entire time, told me she was definitely the same insane woman I remembered. Luckily, I was prepared for such situations. With the number of psychotic exes I’ve had, I’d long accepted a day would come where my life would be in mortal danger. 

The moment I realized it was her, I secretly called the cops by rapidly pressing the power button five times on my phone and swiping where the slider should be to complete the call. Of course, this was done completely hidden away out of her sight inside my pocket without even looking at it. I’d naturally gotten the process down to instinctive muscle memory, so it was as natural as breathing to me by now. 

After all, if there was ever a time I failed to successfully call for the cops in a situation as dire as this, my life would easily be forfeit.

Some people thought paranormal activities and ghosts were the scariest things known to man; however, in my opinion, I believed such people definitely never had a psychotic ex-girlfriend before. As the saying goes, ‘bitches be crazy.’

“Hmm? Why are you so quiet? Could it be that you would like to take a bath first? Or perhaps you would like me… to chop off your head so we can be together forever?”

“...”

“Kyaaa! I said it. Just kidding. It’s just a joke, a joke… or maybe not. Fufufu.”

She is definitely not kidding. Absolutely not! Did she really think by trailing off and mumbling the last part of her sentence under her breath that I wouldn’t be able to hear her? Did she really believe I was bloody daft or senile?

This chick would definitely kill me if I didn’t play along with her. I absolutely had to stall for as long as humanly possible to have any chance of avoiding a future where I’m cruelly butchered by her hands.

“Haha. You know what Adele? I am actually a bit hungry now that you mention it.”

“Oh? Great! I have the perfect meal.”

“Really, what are you planning to make for me?”

I finally worked up the courage to turn around and look at her directly.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Hahaha. Yeah. I like. I like. You’re as beautiful as I remember.”

Yeah, your eyes are still the same psycho killer, crazy shit, something wrong with your head, eyes I remember. She might be beautiful, but it’s always the beauties that are the craziest broads.

She was my first girlfriend, but you could also call her my first ex.

“Silly Darling, I wasn’t talking about myself just now, I was talking about your food. You’ll make me blush if you’re so upfront with me.”

Are you sure it’s not just the blood of someone you killed staining your cheeks?

“Haha. Right… so... what are you going to cook?”

“Darling, can’t you see? I’ve been holding onto it the entire time just for you. How about some rat soup?”

“What?”

Of course, it didn’t take long for me to register what she meant when I glanced down at her hand and found a live rat whipping it’s tiny tail back and forth in the air. What followed was a sight I wished I’d never seen.

“Squeeeeeeeak! Squee Squeee Squeeeeeeak! Squee Squeeeeeeak!”

She pressed the tip of the knife in her hand against the rat’s neck and started to peel away at the skin around its face. She methodically skinned the rat in her hand as blood flew about messily in all directions. The rat pitifully squealed out loud, violently thrashing its body left and right in her hand, desperate to escape from her clutches.

The entire sight left my stomach churning in disgust. The thought over her intent to personally hand feed the mutilated rat carcass to me raw left me horrified to an unimaginable degree.