“Why?” the woman screamed,
her voice thick with pain.
“Because you’re like all the
other bitches who think they’re better than they ought to be.” Declan drew the
blade of the knife across her stomach again, the cut forming an ‘X’ as it
crossed the first one. Blood flowed down her naked legs, pooling on the floor
beneath her feet.
He stepped back to examine
his handiwork, his eyes glittering with hate.
“You’re insane,” she moaned.
“Not really. According to
the studies I’m not insane. I know right from wrong. I hide my victims so I
won’t be caught. I’m legally sane, thus I am
sane. I’m not a loner, far from it, all myths to the contrary. I like people, I
like playing with them. I like playing with you.”
He grinned, closing in on
her again, weaving his knife in front of her face. She flinched back weakly.
“Eyes, ears, nose, throat,
which to start with, which to end with.” He drew the blade lightly down her
cheek to the corner of her mouth. “Silly blonde bitches, always talking, always
looking down on everyone as if they were worthless, stupid, well you get the
picture.”
She screamed one last time
when he cut out her tongue.
“Now you can’t talk.” Slowly
he began removing other parts of her body, telling her what she wouldn’t be
able to do as a result. She didn’t hear him. She was dead by then.
When he’d finished he moved
away. “Someday mother, it will be you hanging here, keeping company with the
others. When I’ve perfected my skills.”
He picked up his tools and left
the mineshaft, shivering in the cold night air as he went to rinse the blood
from them and his body in the stream. Then he returned, dressed, and left,
walking the mile down through the dark forest to where he had hidden his car.
He arrived home to find
Nicky sitting on the steps to his apartment building.
No comments:
Post a Comment