Avenge him

Out of retirement

Murderer's POV

I hang up the phone and something burned inside of me. I threw the phone at the wall. It shattered into tiny particles, littering the floor. I start pacing the floor and ignoring the pieces of my phone getting stuck onto my bare feet cutting it open.

"HAROLD!"I screamed and flip over the table next to me.

He stumbled into the room drunk holding a half empty bottle of vodka, and was still wearing his tux.

"Get me something, get me anything!" I say, my insides firing up. He hands me a plate from the kitchen counter with my half-eaten dinner on it, spaghetti. I throw it at the wall in front me, shattering it with a satisfying crash and coating the wall and carpet in a slimy red. A wicked smile comes across my face, "I have an idea."

*****

I walk into Bottles, my black dress hugged my best features and the right amount of skin. My hips swayed as I sat at the bar beside a tall fellow.

His eyes were a honey color and his hair was salt and pepper.

Easy.

"Hey," I cooed.

"Hello there," his voice was smooth as silk and his smile grew wide. "Can I buy you a drink?" He asks.

"Allow me. Bartender, scotch on the rocks with a... twist." I add with a wink. I fix my dress, pulling down the collar, showing a little cleavage.

"Two scotch on rocks," Harold whisked around, spilling a little of the drink.

I took the drinks, and handed the one on the left to him. He took a few sips, then instant drowsiness.

"Just a little drunk!" I called to the people of the bar with a giggle and they laugh in response with understanding.

******

"Wakey wakey!" I chimed.

"Where am I," he aroused. His head still bobbing forward, until he notices where he was and sits straight up.

My hideout still resides in the basement of the old butcher shop. The room was kept at a heavy chill, and the whole place was in a metal grey. Raw meat hung from the ceiling and sat openly on the counter next to my pre-picked array of knifes.

"Aw, do you not love my home? I decorated it just for you." I began to circle him as he sat tied up in a metal chair. I lean down, "You're going to match the meat on the walls." his breath hitches and I slowly sat on his lap.

"Why are you doing this?" he begins, and I feign a pout. "Oh sweetheart." I stoke his cheek and he recoils. "You were just to easy." I stroke his arm that was collecting millions of goosebumps.

I jump up and clap my hands in excitement. "Now all talking aside, which knife do wish to die from, I'm not completely heartless see? I'm letting you decide your death, somewhat." I shrug my shoulder and I see him begin to cry.

I pick up the largest one from the row and walk up to him, keeping the same stride as I had at Bottles. "You weren't quick enough." I whisper once again and he whimpers.

"Ennie Meenie miny mo," I sing as I place the knife on different parts of his torso, pausing over each vital organ.

"Please" he whispered.

"Oh dear if you have to beg.."

I plunge the knife in and it disappears into his body and he struggles to breathe.

I pull the knife out, and let out an enormous laugh. The smell of blood is fresh and strong. I lift the knife up to my mouth, blood slowly dripping down it. I make the man watch me as I lick a little bit of the blood from the knife. The knife cuts my lip and instead of wiping it away with the back of my hand, I get the fresh stream of blood off with a single kiss on his tense jaw.

Adrenaline coursed through me. The trill made my heart pump. This is the same feeling I got with my first kill. I never want this feeling to end.

I keep kissing him, I kiss his chest, then the left side of his neck, breathing in his cologne slowly getting masked by the scent of his blood. While kissing his left side, I held the knife up and jabbed it in. Blood filled the wound. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and his head slumps forward.

I drop the knife to the floor with a clang. The floor, my hand, and my favorite knife were stained in the crimson red, my new favorite color. What a shame, that truly was my favorite knife. I watch the excess blood drip out of him and onto the already stained floor with a huge grin against his chest. I give him one last lingering kiss on his soft, cold lips and realize,

"Oh, I forgot to ask your name. Actually you remind me of this other man I had the absolute fortune of meeting years ago. He had more fight than you though, that poor Mr. Powell." I told the lifeless soul.

I hand him over to Harold, and skip back to my apartment to think.

I had forgotten how great it felt to be so, empowered. Men never seem to let girls have that these days and I growl to myself.

Men.

And at that I'm back with vengeance against all things men. It's for my sister.

Time for war and I know,

I will win.