I can smell his fear and the aroma of a fresh barbeque comes along with it. I need this kill. I crave the blood of this boy. It’s like insanity, anxiety and obsession wrapped together in a cute little package, ready to be delivered to the unsuspecting victim.
“You know, you should feel proud of yourself,” I smirk as I look down at my watch and note the time being a quarter past two. He had managed to escape three hours ago; you’d believe he’d get further than ten minutes away. He didn’t. He wanted to come back to me – he has this inner mayhem brewing inside of him, and it’s so pure and fresh he can’t kill it. “You’ve beat the record by three – not a soul has ever run away from me.”
I take my first step past the tree line and am hit in the face with a crazed disorganisation. Its smell had never been so real to me, it’s untainted and wholesome. It’s still alive and it’s full of its own nature of blood. It’s breathing through me.
“You’re a beautiful shade of blue, you know.” I glance up at the moon and its surrounding aura of a baby light blue; it’s such a contrast to the void of blackness that expands across the sky. I believe that compliment goes across both ways. The boy has this beautiful blueness around him, which could either, be the skin biting chil...
... middle of paper ...
...t I was going lightly on men lately. Allowing them to live longer than I should, and feeding them extra to keep them happy. I hadn’t meant to become such a passive hostess. I didn’t plan on staying this way either.
“Grab a knife soon Miss Angelina, before you completely use your way.” Florence comments before I turn on the headlines smiling to myself. If a man lays a finger on my Florence, he shan’t have hands to do so again. She was the perfecting version of me – near enough. This time – I’d take the advice, and pick up my favourite knife – Harry. I named my knife after the very same man who tore me open and let me die on the floor of a church, and I didn’t regret my attachment to it. I had always wondered when to sharpen the knife – until I begun to realise Harry never became blunt. He was always going to come back to slice me open, and the pain would never dull.
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