Slash and Kill

Slashe

I don't remember when I started obsessing over death. Maybe I was born with the sensation, or something in my childhood caused it to develop.

    I just love it. Not my own death. But others. I love the sensation of watching them bleed out. Hearing their screams, and tasting the fresh blood. Gives me an adrenaline rush. I just love it,  getting what they deserve. They beg for mercy in their last hour, yet they never think of the pain before. Precautions are important.

    What was the first thing I remember killing?

    I  was in the forest one day and I spotted a rat. I believe I was around six years old? Maybe a little younger.

    Of course I wasn't even scared in the slightest. I am what you call fearless. I am as immortal as humans get. I even knew this at a young age. I guess I've always been a weird child.

    I know I had a knife, I still have it. I nicked it from my father's desk. He had a small junk drawer where he kept random artifacts. Many of which are now in my possession.

    I had the knife with me that day. And I saw the rat. I was curious, and I took the knife and stabbed at the hurried vermin. It took a few tries, most of which ended with a knife in the grass, but eventually I hit it. Little six year old me.

    I remember watching the blood and guts spill out as the little thing squeaked a bit and died. I cut the thing all over and prodded it with my bare fingers. I remember wanting more. Bigger, badder. Bloodier.

    And I guess that's what brought me to where I am today.