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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Skye had been looking for a guy like Ethan, an guy in his situation. vulnerable and alone. He never saw it coming.

Submitted: August 09, 2011

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Submitted: August 09, 2011





The thud of a butcher’s knife hitting the chopping board, the splash of fresh blood spraying across the kitchen walls. I can feel the knife sliding through the mass of tender meat. Bliss.

I have removed the limbs but left the head attached. I wanted to see the look on his face.

Just the torso left.

I lay the bloody butchers knife aside and pull a smaller scalpel like blade from my belt.

Slowly, I slide the blade down the middle of his torso. I feel the warm blood oozing over my hands. I could feel his heart still beating under my right hand. I smile to myself.

It’s a shame he isn’t screaming anymore. When he had woken to find himself gagged and bound to the kitchen table, it had taken a while for him to realise what was going on.

I saw the confusion in his eyes change to shock, then fear, when he saw me, butchers knife in hand.

I had loved it. His pain had been my energy.

Teasing him had been the most fun though. The look on his face as I had licked my bloodied fingers. Craning his neck away as I stroked his face with the back of my hand.

I had laughed.

He didn’t disserve it, though. It was all for fun. The weeks of planning, the seduction, the sex, and now the murder. All for my pleasure.

It hadn’t been hard to find the right person. I meet so many people, day in, day out, that it was only a matter of time till I met Ethan.

He look so handsome when he had first entered the restaurant, however, he had a distant and sullen look on his face. He was the one.

While the other waitresses were arguing about who was to serve him, I took my chance. I made my way over to his table and took his order.

“I’ll have the California rolls, the Fugu and some Sake, please.” He was obviously trying to cover the anguish in his voice but it still had a melancholy note to it.

“Fugu?” I said in my sweetest voice.

He gave a curt nod.

“Ah, a man who likes to live on the edge.”

He gave a feeble attempt at a smile.

“More like a death wish.”

  I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you but the chef here trained in Kyushu, the southernmost island in Japan. He has not killed anyone yet.”

He smiled to himself.


I moved off to give the chef the order, came back and took the seat across from him.

“Tell me the problem.” I put as much sympathy in my voice as possible. Though I cannot empathize with him in any way, I cannot feel his pain and I couldn’t care less.

He looked at me for a second and I feared he might tell me that it was none of my business.

“I have had possibly the worst day of my life. First my boss fires me, and then I come home to find my fiancé in bed with the maid of honour! She says “oh, I’m so sorry you had to find it out this way! I was going to tell you tonight.” Of course tonight had to be the engagement party! I don’t know what to do with myself anymore!”

“Well, how’s about this? I’m finishing my shift in half an hour and I was planning on going down the pub. You meet me round the back and we’ll go together.”

He gave me an unsure look, then nodded. He had obviously decided that I was harmless.

How wrong he was.

It didn’t take long till I had him wrapped right round my finger.

Last night, on our fifthteenth date, he told me he thought he loved me. Love. I would have thought that such a simpering creature would not be capable of such an emotion.

After that it was very easy to get him into my bed. All I had to do was get him a glass of wine and when he had finished tell him I was going to bed and ask if he was going to join me. Of course he didn’t object.

I said that he could go straight to my room and make himself comfortable, and that I would only be a minute. He lifted himself off my sofa and embraced me. Running his lips down from my lips to my collar bone. Many had told me that it would feel exhilarating, but I had thought that it was not possible. But now I saw that I was wrong.

“I must remember to add this next time I take a victim.” I had thought to myself.

He moved past me and into my bedroom as I made my way down the hall to the bathroom. I took off my jewellery and placed them by the side of the sink. I took one look at myself in the mirror and then headed for the bedroom.

However, he was not undressed like I had thought he would be. He was stood next to my dresser looking at the ornate lamp I had placed there.

He turned round when he heard me enter and came over to me. He kissed me once softly on my lips then looked into my eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but I put my finger on his lips.

Slowly, I lead him to my bed. He kissed me again, this time more urgently. Soon it became a steady rhythm .

Before I knew what was happening he was removing the rest of his clothes and mine. He had taken over, just as I had planned.

It had been pleasurable but not as pleasurable as what had come after.

Now I can feel his heart going into overdrive, he has lost too much blood.

My fun has ended.

For the last few seconds, I watch his chest fall and rise out of rhythm, too fast, his eye lids flutter and suddenly he goes still.

I keep watching after he has gone, mesmerised.

I savour the moment. It will be a while till I find another man suitable.

With a sigh I start to put my instruments away and, slowly, drag his torso off the table and into the bin where I had put his other body parts.

But then there is a knock at the door. But I ignore it.

Another knock.

Another, this time accompanied by a voice.

“Miss Johnson? We know you’re in there. Come out with your hands up.”

Oh no, they’ve found me.

Frantically I look around the kitchen.

Where could I have put it?

Then I remember. Tear open the cupboard above the microwave.

Sure enough, there it is. The small pot containing a single Cyanide capsule.

It was hard to get hold of, but I knew I would need it someday. Today was that day.

I took one last look at the blood splattered walls and smiled to myself.

“well, you’ve hit a dead end here, Sky. So, what ’cha goin’ to do about it?” with the smile still on my face, I swallow the capsule dry.

My only regret is that I didn’t get to look at the Police’s faces when they saw my masterpiece.

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