#11 IN ACTION
(PARIS)
Buried deep below the everyday life of our society lives a world of nightmares-of violence and murder no one dares speak about. It is called the Sinner's Society.
In the murky waters of Chicago's underworld I'm arranged to marr...
Touching an angel while having one foot in Hell and tempting him until his wings changed from pure white to sooty black became an experience that couldn't be matched. I would go my lifetime arranging and rearranging situations to make sure I never went without it.
—Alex
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He's lying on the floor; his white shirt torn here and there by the slashes of my dagger and soaked in blood. His blood that I've spilled. I'm straddling him ready to put an end to this maddens he deliberately started thirteen years ago. It makes me furious when I see his blue eyes widen. Because I don't see fear in them. I don't know what I see but it's definitely not fear. I bare my teeth before a scream tears out from the depth of my batted soul and bring the dagger down plunging it in his chest.
Repeatedly.
Again and again
Cause him as much pain as he has caused me.
Skin gorges, blood sprays and bone crack.
I'm drench in it, warm and oily, coating my hands. Drops splatter on my face. His body jerks helplessly. He grunts and chokes.
Tears slip out his glazed over eyes.
I yank the dagger out.
He gurgles chocking on his blood.
I slit his throat.
I end him.
I wake with a gasping start, my hand fisting the duvet, the end tail of my dream slipping way as consciousness washes up on me—I can still see snatches of nightmare: Blood, crimson and thick, sliver glint of the dagger and bloodshot blueblueble eyes staring at me. Sweat dots my brow, my mind working fast to remind me of who I am.
