Mental Detainment

CHAPTER NINE

9. The soul knows no time

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Times up. You should have got away when you could, but of course you had to lose yourself in the movements of your body against his, (because he was too traumatised to further resist).

And he's a pretty boy isn't he? Must be them genes.

But as I said, times up and I'm not in the mood to further repeat myself. I'll hold my tongue for when we're alone and then you'll wish for the act to be undone.

There's red dripping from your fingertips, his left eye swims in the same shade and it's as though you're blind to the crime but it's him who's losing his sight. It's been fourteen minutes since he first walked through your office door, another half 'til you're dragged out with undeserved dignity.

And all this spilled blood is ruining my shoes.

Justice has its eyes on you, and it's a shame on their part, they don't have my view. You look glorious with the silvers of shame peeking at your roots but don't repent on your knees - you're on the fast track to hell, no roadworks or diversions ahead.

And once the journey ends, I'll unclasp my fingers from your neck and move onto the next.

Your daughter is now dead. Either that, or she's incredibly limp.

And they're here. Look them in the eye, show no fear.

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