The night was black. The clouds covered the stars and moon. The streetlights had long since gone out. Nothing to see, nothing to hear. It was perfect.


I slipped behind a building and stood perfectly still. Waiting. Waiting for her. She was coming, soon, and I would wait. Wait, and smile, and curl my fingers around the handle of the short, silver blade in anticipation.


Footsteps came. I held my breath and waited, listening to each step draw closer and closer. The moment drew nearer. I stood against the wall, silent, still, in the pitch-black darkness, listening to the moment approach. As she walked closer, I could hear her. I could hear her fact, heavy breathing, as she sped through the dark, terrified of what may lie hidden. Terrified of meeting something like me.


I stepped out from behind the corner. As quietly as a cat, I swiftly crept up behind her. I could hear her heart beating, too fast, rapid with fear. I waited half a second till the moment was right, then flashed out and snatched her by the long blond hair. She screamed, screamed so loud, screamed so horribly, but her screams were not heard. They rang through the air, stabbing through the silent night, reaching no ears. I twisted her hair in my hands, turning her to face me. I wanted to watch her face as I did this. I wanted to see her, to see the emotions on her face as she slowly died. I wanted to watch as her debt was paid, bit by bit.


She saw my face, but did not recognize it. She did not see who I was, did not understand the reason she was here, held in my grip, inches from my blade. I was angered by this, and held up the knife to her face. Her eyes widened in fear, and terror wrote itself across her face. I smiled, taking pleasure in this terror of hers. The knife crept closer, gently resting on her forehead. I pressed down, slowly, drawing the tip down one inch. The very first drops of blood were spilled.


She stared into my eyes in horror, the blue boring into my brown. Her lips moved, trying to form a word, but no sound came out. I pressed the side of the blade to her lips.


“Shh”, I soothed her. The knife slid down to her throat, and she whimpered quietly. I twisted the handle, driving the blade into a point just underneath her jaw. The skin broke and blood began dripping out, faster and faster as the knife drove deeper. I looked at her face, watched while her jaw clenched in pain and the sobs and cries rose in her throat. I removed the knife from the wound slowly, smiling, taunting.


I carefully let go of her hair, slowly releasing her to the ground. She blinked, confused, and seemed about to try and run when I raised my knife to the air and brought it slashing down. The blade cut through her flesh, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping, curled around the gash in her belly. The blood was flowing fast now. The teasing was over. I yanked her up by the hair, forcing her to stand. She screamed and cried and struggled and fought, beating on me pitifully with her weak, useless fists. I swiftly opened a wound in her arm, cutting deeply through to bone. She shrieked and shrieked, piercing agonized shrieks, speaking no words and yet yelling one thousand cries for help, one thousand cries that no one would ever hear.


It was time. Time for the finale. I pressed the knife to her throat firmly, and slit it open. She lay on her back, struggling to breathe, the life rapidly leaving her body. As she choked in her last dying breaths, I leaned down over her face. I parted back her hair, and I whispered in her ear one word. One single word. Her eyes flew open in horror, and did not close. They remained frozen, wide open, etching a terrified expression forever on her cold, lifeless face. I stood up and brushed myself off, satisfied. The deed was done at last. Her debt to me was repaid.


I walked away exactly 5 paces. I took one last look at the bloody corpse before me. I pulled out a gun, held it to the side of my head. I fired. I fired the gun that ended my life. The bullet lodged deep into my brain and I crumpled to the ground, dead.