(Part one)

Maria swatted at me with a weak slap, and as it landed across my cheek, the blood from her open, cerise gashes moisturized my face with her rich sanguine fluid. And it was at that moment I realized I truly loved my girlfriend. Of course, she just didn’t understand, and after the chase she had put up, I was going to make sure that I would enjoy, and bask in ending her life.
As I gently raised my hand up to the bloodied imprint she left on my cheek, I couldn’t help but smile. Her hair, matted with blood, ran fresh in some places and stuck together in others. Her eyes bled tears, and her make-up was running. I didn’t tell her.

Perhaps I should?

“Honey…come on now…You don’t think you could hide it from me forever, do you?” I spoke, reaching out for her. She had again put up her hands in a defense against me, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to hurt her. Not yet. She barely understood my actions to begin with, and the same could be said about how I felt towards her.
“You know, it really hurts me. Why couldn’t you tell me that I was boring? There was no need to go out and see other men. That really hurts me, Maria.” I spoke, but she spoke gibberish, the weeps and sobs, with the occasional raising of her voice. It was something around the lines of “You think IT hurts YOU?”. I figured she was still a little pissed off about me putting her hand in the blender.

“Shhh, Shhh…” I coo. I let my hand reach out to her, and this time, she doesn’t bat it away. She doesn’t even look at me. I reach under her chin, to bring her face back up to the light, but she doesn’t even look at me now. “Maria, you look so CUTE! But, really. Look at me.
Come on.” I prod, expecting her to do as I ask.

She doesn’t.

Now, this was a predicament to me. I wanted her to look at me, to view me as she did before, with her respectful and nurturing eyes. They were so warm, so caring. They were something that I always looked forward to whenever she came back from her girl’s night out.
“Maria, please look at me.” I ask again, and I feel my temper rising. When she doesn’t, I leave her and head over to the bedside. Our
bedside. It’s unnecessarily cold, but that’s not that big of a deal. I’ve felt the cold before, and it’s not something that bothers me.

“But, it might bother her…”

“Maria, are you cold?” I asked, turning to her. She sat on her chair, eyes still closed, still crying. I knew she probably didn’t like it too much, so I turned the thermostat up. I rummage through her dresser and find exactly what I’m looking for. I take my own chair, and sit it in front of her.

“Maria, please, PLEASE look at me.” I ask again, pleading with her just so I can see her icy blue orbs. But she doesn’t listen. I blow into her ear and she moves, so I know she can hear me. I reach back into my pocket and pull out my looted treasure from her self-manicure kit. The silver toenail clipper glowed in the light.
I reach forward and flip the clipper so it can be used, and I move it towards her eyelid. Maria’s arms reach up to stop me, but it’s not like they would. She was too weak, and I was sure she lost too much blood. I move the clipper closer, and with my other hand, I snatch her eyelashes. I clip the clipper over the inside of her lids and the outer layer. When are in place, I press down on the lever, I hear Maria let out a soft, whiny scream.

“I told you to open your eyes, you silly woman.” I laugh, giggling like I did when I first met her, using the same mannerisms that I used for her all of the time. As I pull, the thin skin breaks and a tiny stream of blood leaks out, and she screams louder. Bits of the skin stick to the clippers, and the blood slowly drips down from her clenched eyes, dotting her blue eyes with a deep dark red.
(End of part one)

Wow, it's really thrilling. I'd love to read more.

It's fucked up and I love it. Bret Easton Ellis would be proud. I want more.

I'll take a jab at some of the more blaring things I see here.

Your usage of after-speech identifications eg. "I said" are repetitious and redundant. It makes your characters seem stupid when they rigidly take claim to actions at times where it follows from context who said what. Along these lines, it really kills the flow between action and speech. However you could fix a lot of it by just moving your existing sentences from the end of current paragraphs to the beginning of others, give or take a little rewording.

Also using a lot of commas wreaks havoc on fluency. Example: "Maria swatted at me with a weak slap, and as it landed across my cheek, the blood from her open, cerise gashes moisturized my face with her rich sanguine fluid."
You will probably think I am just nitpicking because I cited the first sentence. Yet this sentence exemplifies another problem (insofar as I see it) of yours, namely that of simply describing actions. It could be rewritten as: "Maria weakly swatted a hand across my cheek. As it landed the blood from her open, cerise gashes moisturized my face with her rich sanguine fluid." Pay closer attention to context you yourself create from previous actions.

"I reach back into my pocket and pull out my looted treasure from her self-manicure kit. The silver toenail clipper glowed in the light. I reach forward and flip the clipper so it can be used, and I move it towards her eyelid." Obviously the first thing I notice here is repetitive use of "I reach". In the second instance of "I reach" you are not really reaching for anything in the same sense you actually moved your arm towards your back pocket, so this creates some ambiguity of meaning. Actually a formula you seem to fall into often is "x does y and z".

Okay, well, I hope that helps.