harry,
it baffles me how you killed all of these innocent women with no guilt running through your mind whatsoever. how you could watch the life leave their eyes and not feel a single speck of remorse for them.
the next woman you killed was nameless. in other words, you didn't know her name as you picked her up from a prostitution ring one night after thinking about madison. you said that it was lust, you lusted after somebody similar after watching your ex lover unravel in front of you, completely losing herself thanks to you.
she had similar features to madison, yet you didn't feel a flutter in your heart as she smiled at you, letting her hand run over your thigh in the car. her blonde hair didn't shine, it wasn't soft and wavy. it was definitely dyed, pin straight and greasy, the roots showing at the top. you specifically said that you wouldn't touch it if a hundred guns were pointed at you and your only option was to place a finger on it.
maybe because you already had a million guns turned on you in your head.
you lead the woman into your house, immediately slamming her roughly into the door and ripping her tight shirt off. she tried kissing you, but you denied it. the way you wrote about every minor detail left me distraught. you didn't see her as an actual human being, but as someone who got paid to be dominated. paid to be used.
it did upset me to read.
you finished and told her to leave, throwing a couple of notes her way. she went without protest, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
you regretted it, didn't you. the memories with madison ran through your mind, taunting and teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore. that's why you went running after the woman and grabbed her by the hair, before smashing her face into a wall. quickly and precisely, you stabbed her right in the heart.
and even after all of that, your only thought was the vile feeling of her hair as you whacked her head relentlessly. and how it didn't match up to madison's beautiful locks at all.
