Reside Within Me

Chapter Four

"Dear reader," I write on my arm, "I've made another consecutive kill. I hope this makes you stop reading the writing on my arms."

I try to look like a heartless soul but a tear plops on the fresh ink. I wipe it off quickly but I know they can feel it. The silent burn of my sweater.

Speaking of which I need to replace. It's tainted in fresh blood.

Tears continue to pour down my cheeks. A guilty man without proper pay is a pain. I've killed so many people without a second thought. All for a few minutes of sex to go quiet. What kind of low life am I?

They lay on the bed. They look exactly the same as before, sleeping like, only with with blood everywhere. It's almost funny how they didn't scream. Most of the time, they can't help but scream.

Maybe they don't scream. Ever. Maybe it's always me who screams but I just don't realize it. After all, I killed. It just seems natural, no?

I watch blood being soaked into the mattress. I just killed another innocent person and all I can to is watch.

A salty droplet of my tear reaches my mouth. It caresses me, slowly and gently. Just like her lips once did. They were soft but patronizing. Almost ghastly wild with such vigor. And I would touch her the way her lips did. Gently, like stroking a cat. Brushing my fingers and just giving her a small taste as I would kiss her.

Sometimes she would jolt. As if the way I touched her killed her because it wasn't soft or rough. It was just both, taunting and teasing her. Making her want more.

I know that feeling. Many before her others would taunt me with it. Almost making it feel like a threat. Even though it was just a distracted stroke against the skin of your thigh, it felt like the bone was being comforted in such a way that makes you jump. That makes you want things you weren't in the mood for at the time.

I remember doing that to her. Before I killed her. Before my mind was clouded by thoughts that shouldn't scare me.

Before you read the writing on my skin.