She can tell those three words turn me on and I know she's trying to hide a smile. Slowly, her hand travels up my chest, starting at my lower abdomen, and working up to the center-making me want to shiver at her light caress. She sticks out her fing...
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The coals glow in the dark grate of the old woman's front room. Round the shelves and covering the tall mantle piece are happy smiling faces framed in the many family photographs. The old furniture is worn and dusty. The withered fruit has been left too many days in the cracked crystal bowl on the coffee table. The room looks like it has stayed the same for many years. The faded curtains are dark and heavy, keeping the light out of the room and making it rather gloomy and depressing.
"Please, we didn't do anything!" The woman's voice quivers and cracks.
Blood.
The metallic scent is heavy and festering, probably stuck in my nostrils forever, even though I assumed I'd be used to it by now. It still makes me sick sometimes...it smells like rusty iron, and the air in this house just became so thick and hard to breathe.
The mess is also always hard to clean, and maybe I should have picked something other than an old woman's cabin decorated in antique furniture tonight, but I wasn't planning on stopping here. Life is a little box of surprises, and what was supposed to be a smooth killing and a good night's sleep ended up with me in this small cabin.
The annoyance I'm feeling tonight is usual; I blame this disgusting couple sitting in the wooden chairs before me. Their wrists and ankles are chained, and they can't move at all, despite their useless attempts.
These four painted walls are pretty high, and the front room isn't spacious. I haven't opened any windows because someone could hear them scream; that's probably why the smell is sickening.
"You know, this was supposed to be entertaining." I take a deep breath through my mouth. I can taste the blood.
"You crazy dick!" The husband shouts, trying to get free again, but his brain is as tiny as his dick because he still hasn't realized he isn't going anywhere. On the other hand, his wife has figured it out much more quickly.
It was a last-minute thing, but they wouldn't stop yelling, which was getting annoying. I don't usually get to do the whole torture thing. I usually get a name and an address, and I kill them. But I'm excited for tonight. I need a good break from finding and killing.
"Roman... we've been here for over an hour, and I could be taking a warm bath or a nap, but I'm spending time here with you." I crouch in front of him, keeping my gaze locked on his as I observe the fear in his hazel eyes. "I'm sure your wife is exhausted. Look at her; she's practically weaving in and out of consciousness." I stand up and slap his wife's right cheek. "Wake up, sweetheart," I say as she awakens with a snort. I step closer to Addy, Roman's wife, not caring anymore as I step over the recent pool of blood on the nice carpet. My boots feel sticky now, and I cross my arms over my chest.
Blood is dripping from her wounded hand and the deep cut on her cheek, the white tank top she's wearing is now stained with blood as red as wine, just like my shirt.
