The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the knife, his earlier cockiness evaporating as he realised that I actually posed a threat to him.  He took a step away, but there was nowhere for him to run, just a brick wall at his back and the same left and right.

 

He opened his mouth, his jaw flapping stupidly as he fought to find the words to plead for his life, but I had no interest in hearing them.  Once the begging had excited me, terror and helplessness forming a crucial part of my dark act, but their appeal had long since passed.

 

I moved quickly, grabbing his hair with my left hand, yanking his head back.  He grunted a feeble protest, but it was cut short as I deftly ran the blade across his throat.  I stepped back to admire my handiwork, smiling as my teenage victim clamped his hands to his neck in a futile effort to stem the flow of blood, the despair in his eyes telling me that he knew his life was at an end.

 

And as the blood poured from his throat, I felt my own release of fluid, my desires sated for a while.

 

 


Many thanks to Alicia, whose editing expertise never ceases to enrich my work as much as she enriches my life


 

 

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