Yes, girls, galaxyMafia is quite bored. That must be why she's introducing new reality fiction starring the man she loves to manipulate as a character in a story, your very own Mr. Wentworth Miller. This time, his lovely co-star is hot tamale Eva Mendes. Gabrielle Union returns to make it a true threesome.







"Diabolical Lust"

I plunge the knife into her chest while she is sleeping, peaceful. . .
Her blood is warm, beautiful.
And I cannot wait to taste it


Patiently, gently, Wentworth Miller took the serrated combat knife and made an incision on the left side of the torso, just below her left breast, winding the knife down the side all the way to the tip of the left shoulder blade, cutting down to the rib.

He slipped the tip of the knife through the chest wall, puncturing the chest wall, stripping the muscles away. . .

The chest was open.

With his hands, he spread her ribs apart. . .

A huge clot of blood gushed out at him, soaking his hands, splattering his face. . .

Undaunted, licking her blood from his lips, he grabbed the pericardium sack, encasing the heart.

Using the knife, he sliced the pericardium sack, exposing Gabrielle’s heart. . .

His hands closed around the pulsating organ. . .



Eva Mendes gasped, dropping her fork.

It was eight in the evening, and she and Joaquin Phoenix, her co-star in “We Own The Night”, a police drama they were currently filming in New York, were having dinner at Les Halles on Park Avenue South, the restaurant made famous by chef Anthony Bourdain.

After long, arduous and occasionally boring days of shooting, it wasn’t uncommon to share a meal with a co-worker, and she and Joaquin had plenty to laugh and talk about, specifically the currently speculation about their so-called burgeoning romance.


Photos in Star and US had shown them leaving a hotel, getting into a cab, and now the whole damn world was poised to brand them as the next Brad and Angelina.

As they’d sat down to dinner amidst stares and whispers, they’d joked about the ways in which the media would try to fuse their names.

Evaquin. . .?

Jova. . .?

It no longer mattered.

Because her muscles were tightening, her blood traveling towards her brain and away from the surface of her skin. . .

So he won’t bleed to death, she reminded herself.

“Eva. . .” Joaquin stared at her.

Wentworth's neo-cortex is shutting down, the survival mechanisms in the more primitive, primal parts of the brain are taking over. . .he will start to react, his ability to reason and rationalize impaired. . .this is reducing him to basic emotions. . .

Fear.

Sadness.

Anger.

“Eva. . .”

Her face in flames, Eva grabbed her chest, clawing at it.

“Eva. . .? Are you okay?” Joaquin asked, concerned.

Her blood pressure dipped, and spiked as her adrenal glands released a flood of noradrenaline.

What was the hell going on?

Noradrenaline. . .he was angry.

No, not just angry. . .he was furious, psychotic with rage.

“What’s the matter?”

Eva shook her head, unable to speak, his emotions gouging her, slicing her open.

What was happening to him?

“Eva. . .”

“I need to. . .go to the Ladies room,” she rasped, clutching her stomach, her fingers digging into her own flesh. “I’ll be. . .right back. . .”

In the restroom, Eva stumbled, and fell to the floor. Crawling across the floor, her nails sliding across the damp tile, she went into one of the stalls.

Her gut twisted violently and she clutched the cold, porcelain bowl, emptying her stomach all over it.

Gasping, her throat constricting, she fell back against the stall.

What the hell was happening?

Her phone. . .

She needed her cell phone.

Dr. Xing. . .he would know what to do, he would know how to help her. . .

Coughing, she crawled out of the stall, over to the basin. Reaching up, she grabbed the edge of it, her fingers slippery, trembling, and pulled herself up.

Reluctantly, she slowly glanced at herself in the mirror.

His image stared at her, standing behind her.

Horrified, Eva whirled around, faced him.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, shrinking away from him.

“Where is she. . .?”

“Where is who?” Eva asked.

This isn’t real, she told herself, on the verge of panic. There was no need to be afraid. Dr. Xing had warned her this might happen. The neuropsychiatrist had told her that the experiment might cause this particular side effect, giving him the ability to navigate into her subconscious through cerebral projection.

“Where is she?”

“Who are you talking about?” Eva asked, her heart slamming against her ribs.

There was blood on his face, blood all over his hands.

I plunge the knife into her chest while she is sleeping, peaceful. . .

Terrified, Eva stared at him.

“Did I kill her?” he asked, pain in his eyes. “Did I kill Gabrielle?”







copyright 2006 - galaxyMafia. . .hopes you have a blessed day and invites you to check out her brand new twisted version of "Bulletproof Love" with a Prison Break vibe.