Just Another

August 17th - Jonathon - Discovery

Scared.
Alone.
Unsafe.

Three words that describe the feeling of being followed.

I believe, that no one fully comprehends true anxiety, until you are being apprehended by a stranger, someone of completely no connect or known affiliation with you, except the direction and speed you are walking.

These are the feelings that I feel.

These three words accurately define my entire being on the night of August 17th.

I only know one thing in this current moment.

I was being followed.

Any rational human being would have taken precautions before fleeing from their assailant.

I could reach into my purse and I could hold my keys in my fist, one protruding outwards, to form some sort of make shift knife.

I could spray perfume into their eyes.

I could dial 911.

I could plan an escape route.

I could do many different things, take certain precautions, or even try to injure them.

But I was never violent towards anyone beforehand I hadn't planned to start now. This feeling of paranoia, it was new to me.

It was strange and I didn't expect it, but I turned towards the person who had been trailing me and stood firmly.

They stopped abruptly and seemed to be quite shocked at my sudden realization of their presence.

I spoke, hoping my voice wouldn't shake uncontrollably.

"Who are you and why have you been following me?"

My frank words surprised the person in the hoodie, and if I'm being honest, they surprised me too.

In this ordeal of mixed emotions and terrified thoughts, I, somehow, managed to hold a strong voice.

The hooded person never spoke, as they slowly started pulling their
hand from their pocket.

A glimmer on the cool metal of the blade they held, caused by the nearby street light flashing off. It was a cold darkness, one that silenced the air and wind.

The sound of footsteps reached my ears as I ducked down, afraid of being stabbed.

That was until a large body rammed into my own, falling over my crouched physique. The only sound that I heard was the clatter of metal on asphalt.

Quickly

I scampered over to the knife and took it into my hand, holding it firmly. The streetlight flickered on once again.

My fear drained. My anxiety subsided. I felt safe.

Standing, I walked over to where the criminal fell.

Their hood fell off, uncovering short brown hair and a scared pair of hazel eyes.

"What's your name?"

My voice was sharp, almost unrecognizable.
I didn't feel angry, I only felt desire.

The kind of desire you feel when you want something terribly but you've never had it before.

"J-Jonathon!" the boy squeaked out.

It was hard for me to believe that, just a few moments ago, this boy was holding a knife to me.

I crouched next to him and looked the boy deep in the eyes.

He was around my age, well maybe younger. His hair was surprisingly silky looking in the street light. He was a beautiful child.

He was absolutely perfect.

"Goodbye, Jonathon"

My words were short but they left the sweetest taste in my mouth as I pinned him to ground and covered his mouth with my right hand.

Taking the knife in my left, I slowly drove the sharp metal into his eye, savoring the popping sound it made once the tip broke the surface.

The eloquent color of his blood slowly dripped from his eye, his screams stifled by my hand. I removed the knife swiftly and a smile cralwed its way onto my face.

Each slice, each stifled scream, each drop of blood, each terrified look, each removed ligament, each piece of flesh carved from his body felt like pure ecstasy in my bones.

No feeling man or woman could grant me sexually, would even begin to compare in how wonderful and fulfilling this felt.

He tried to break my grip but I wasn't anywhere near finished.

I took a handkerchief out of my bag and shoved it deep into his mouth, disabling him from yelling, because what I was about to do required both hands.

I took his left hand in mine, holding it so the thumb was facing me.

I then placed the knife directly between his finger tip and nail, driving the knife into his thumb.

I then jerked the nail off and dangled it above his other eye, letting it fall onto his face.

I was enjoying every moment of creativity I had while dismantling this young boy. It must have been hours before he either passed out, or died. I climbed off of his nonmoving body and grinned, leaving what masterpiece I had created in the middle of the street.

I laughed and cried tears of pure joy.

True art deserves to be seen.

At this point, I wasn't worried about the consequences, I only knew one thing.

I had to do it again.