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I was not like most people. 'Can you stop crying for a second? I'm trying to appreciate this moment and you're really fucking it up.' Just like the rest of them, she was unable to speak. I presumed her teeth were clogging up her throat by now, which meant I didn't have much time. I leaned over her, hands trailing up her bare skin and lips connecting with her throat. I could feel her intestines press against my stomach as my fingertips brushed against the outside of her tits before I sunk my teeth into her neck, the familiar metallic taste of blood beginning to leak between my lips and onto my tongue. She whimpered, her heart beating so hard that I could feel it against my skin. The blood pooling up in her mouth began to overflow, slipping down her chin and into my hair- although for once I didn't mind. I felt like this woman really understood me. She wasn't (Y/n), however. She was just some whore I picked up off the street. I sat up, running my tongue over the small drips of blood that stuck to my lips before staring down at her, breath becoming heavy as my eyes ran over her slit stomach. Her sides were pinned to the mattress so I had a clear view of her insides, including the blood that I had mostly drained from her. I wasn't satisfied, however, and reached into her, my spine tingling with the orgasmic feeling of her flesh squishing as I tore out her large intestine. She ached to scream, but her heart gave out before she could. I finally sighed with disappointment and placed the organ back inside of her. Slowly, I got off of her and made my way to the bathroom, washing my hands. As usual, I then shuffled into the kitchen, slightly relieved at the sight of my phone sitting exactly where I left it, and took it into my slightly damp hands. I cursed myself for not putting on a robe or something comfortable so I wasn't cold, although there wasn't much point when I was going to shower soon anyway. I dialled a familiar number, one that I used all-too-often. The phone rung twice before they picked up, and it took them a second to actually speak. 'Hello?' 'It's Ghost.' 'I'll be right over.' 'I'll be in the shower. Tap the door when you leave.' 'Of course.' The call immediately ended. He was going to be here soon, so I hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I did the usual, turning the shower on and letting the room fill up with steam before actually jumping in. The hotness practically melted all the blood on my skin, leaving only my tattoos. After a few minutes of just standing there, I began to hum quietly to myself. I remembered the song from when (Y/n) and I met. She made music boxes for a living and sold them to collectors which surprisingly paid lots of money. She mostly repaired old ones but it was still beautiful. She was beautiful. The song was called "Mary's Little World" and apparently it was from a game called "IB" that she loved playing as a child. (Y/n) told me about how I reminded her of Mary, a painting of a girl that came to life and wants to escape the world she was brought into. I always found it sweet of her to relate me to a girl who was willing to murder to get what she wanted. Knock, knock. I snapped out of my thoughts when the familiar noise caught my attention. 'Thank you.' 'Make sure you forget who she was.' He informed me. I already knew the drill, but he never failed to remind me. He was just a simple maid, going around and cleaning up specific messes for people who were willing to pay. Luckily, I had connections and got the same treatment for free. I knew that when I left the shower, all traces of her would be gone. That's what he did.
