Taste of blood

The blood ran down the cold steel of my blade. The radiant heat slowly died from the sear cold of metal. Blood reached the hilt of my knife, letting it seep through the creases of my fingers and palm. The simple chill of the cooled blood sent a shiver through me.

That is why I love to kill, to feel the fear and excitement for a hunt. To see a victim quiver as I raise my blade or pull the trigger, was a drug. It’s a disease that cannot be treated or cured by any man. I don’t mind the cancer bleeding through my body, swallowing me whole.

I looked to the floor, where a man lay pale with a large bloody slit across his neck. The other stab wounds around his body weren’t fatal on purpose. Each mark missed every major organ and artery, only breaking bone and ripping flesh. 

I remember standing above his pleading voice, crying for no more… asking to live. He tried to apply pressure to all the wounds, one hand on his side the other on a hip. It was sad frankly. After five minutes of his squirming, I decided to be a nice guy and finally sliced through his neck like butter. Oh, that was my favorite part.

At some point I had lowered my arm letting the blood move the other direction off the blade to the floor. Small dots, grouped in what would be nice bullet rounds fell below knife. What did blood taste like? Did it feel thin and salty rushing down your throat?

I lifted the blade while sticking out my tongue. I slowly brought it to-

“Ron you ready to go?” A voice screamed in an adrenaline induced tone.  I quickly removed the knife from my face, and hide it in my back pocket of my blue jeans.

Before answering, I cracked all my joints from the knuckles to the neck. Then I picked up a towel from the bathroom counter and wiped the blood clean off my hands and tossing it back in the sink.

“Yeah I’m ready,” I said in a relaxed voice loud enough to hear. “The car ready?”

“Confirmed kill?”

I rolled my eyes, the idiots my employers force me to embark with. “Yes he is dead, do you want to come in and see the pool of-“I didn’t even get to finish my sentence, what an impolite bastard.

“Yes” He said in a dazzled way “The car is ready come on! The cops are comin soon!”

Idiots, like I said before don’t know the difference between stealth and brutal attacks. “Did you hear a scream come out of this man’s mouth? I didn’t, the warning he residents of this small motel would be your yelling and talk of murder!”

I pulled my sun glasses out of my pocket. My printless fingers only left large smudges over the lens. I put them on, a prefect shield for those who can’t stare into my cold blue eyes. I let my victims stare into them, to see my soul like some believers say.

I walked out the door into the living room of this old rank motel room. The door was swung open from when he kindly opened it for me. I punched his throat, ceasing any screams for help. Would it be a fair fight with back up?

The TV laid smashed on the floor, glass shattered around it. The man had knocked it other while rushing to the bathroom. I chuckled at the thought, why did he go to the bathroom? I wanted to go back and look for any weapons, but remembered the idiots loud screaming. I sighed and walked out the first floor room.

A car door was opened, with my idiot waving his arm inward like well an idiot. I strolled over to my escape vehicle, a smile on my face. I climbed in shutting the door behind me.

“How long of a drive to Mr. Smith’s house?” I grabbed a sandwich I left in the car, for a quick snack. Hey murdering someone is tough business. The first bite into the ham and cheese was delicious, a simple make but very good.

“Well I’m getting all of the pay,” I heard a gun cock. “You hear me?”

I took another bite into my sandwich not giving my idiot a second’s look.  “So what you’re telling me is I do all the work and I get killed for it?” I said after a large gulp.

He shook his head, also shacking the gun that I could see in the corner of my eye. “Interesting, but tell me what was Mr. Smith going to hear about my death?” 

There was silence for a long time, so I decided to talk again. “And why did you not shoot me the moment after the job was done. Would have been quick and easy, maybe even painless on my part.”

“Uh…” 

“It’s because you’re a lackey, you don’t think things through. You’re not even capable of it.” There goes the trigger being pulled back.

I grabbed the handle of my seat and flew back out of the guns sight. My legs were already tangled around his neck, the knees pushing his Adams apple deeper in his throat. His hand released the gun and it fell to the bottom of the car with a huge thump.

With my legs still compressing this poor idiot’s neck, I reached down and grabbed that gun. I leaned up to his face, pressed it to the forehead and boom went the skull.

Worst part was, I won’t be able to finish my delicious sandwich on the way to Smiths. You know cause of all the brain.