Is it wrong to say it feels good? The warm, sticky wetness coating my fingers, my pounding heart, breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Oh, yes. It feels good. Again…again…again. It’s coming. I can feel it coming. It’s so close. My whole body is on fire, begging me to finish it. Begging me. He’s begging me, too. I like it. I smile. His body begins to spasm uncontrollably. There it is. That moment. The perfect moment. I look deep into his eyes and bring the knife down one last time –
It’s quiet. The fridge is buzzing monotonously in the kitchen. My bedroom is empty, my hands free of blood. No knife. Just me, alone in my room. My pyjamas cling to my sweat-covered body and my heart is still racing. Is it wrong to say it feels good? Because it does. The rush is…addictive. Wake up, the killing stops, but the feeling…the feeling lingers. I smile, a different smile this time and throw off the covers. I’m wide awake, edgy and restless, my body yearning for more.
Featured image: Pixabay