Mine (Jenlisa)

four.

Lisa's POV~

There is something about killing that soothes me. And after such a harrowing night, I needed to be soothed.

⚠️Warning⚠️

I took the knife and slid it down to the man's chest. He was bawling behind the dishrag. Behind me, the girl was crying, her eyes clenched shut. Stupid girl. She told me she was curious.

Licking my lips, I took my time. My favorite is the skin on the chest, when it opens up in nice thick slices. Almost like a bacon. (A/N: I am never going to eat bacon anymore)

I am not like Hannibal Lector, don't worry. Human flesh does not interest me, not in a culinary way. I do enjoy watching people realize that they are all flesh though. It is something I've always known about myself, but most other humans have the mistaken idea that they are people; not just animals.

They think that there is something separate from their bodies, something different and disconnected from tissues and tendons that take them from place to place in the world.

They are no different though, when they start to die. Like this man, for instance. I slipped my knife under his skin and he howled behind the dishrag. Blood welled up from under my knife and dropped down his side. In the corner, the girl was speaking.

"D-don't do it. Please don't do it," she cried, "Please don't hurt him anymore."

"Shut up," I muttered, not looking at her. I still had to decide what to do with her; but I did not want a distraction. Not now. "You have no idea how much he deserved this."

My knife slid under the man's chest, down to his stomach. His screams softened the edges of the world. He sounded so much like an animal now, so very much. I took out the dishrag and his howls filled the room.

The girl clapped her hands over her ears. Silly girl. This is the sound of living. This is suffering at its purest. It is beautiful, really. Justice for the innocent. Pain to pay for the pain he had caused.

The howls increased as I tapped the knife's edge on the man's hand, just at his knuckles. He balled his hands to a fist.

"How did you hurt her?" I whispered to the man. The point of my knife pushed down into his first knuckle of his index finger.

"No," the man gasped, "No."

I did not asked if. I asked how," I said calmly. The man's eyes sought mine, but there was nothing in them but fear in his eyes. He is an animal now, and the only thing he cared about is surviving. "Did you hit her?"

"No!"

My knife punctured the skin and I point into the knuckle.

"I saw you," I said, my voice a sing-song. It would not be long now. He would confess. "I saw you."

"No-"

I twisted the knife and the bone popped. The man's screamed brighten the room.

"I saw you," the calm came over me. It would be soon. The world brighten with color already. "I saw you."

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't. I will never do it again, p-please no, no-"

The girl in the corner was crying, her face buried in her arms. I was sorry that she had to miss this. I looked into the man's eyes. When I first caught him, he was arrogant. His eyes were dull of hate and power, and he thought he could get away with hurting people. Now all there was in his eyes was hurt, pain, and terror.

A monster for a monster. Something to feed the shadow.

The fear of death was a powerful emotion. It dropped away everything else and cleansed people of their sins. Nobody, not even the cruelest man, can hold onto their cruelty in the face of death. It takes away their power, makes them humble. It was a blessing to them, I thought, that they died in such purity. And it was this purity that fought away the shadow inside of me.