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Like the fire that doesn’t care if it burns the wood or the flesh, Max had no preferences at all. In all his entire world, he only cared about giving them what they deserved rather than what they desired.
That night turned out to be the perfect one for him, for he had finally achieved everything he had longed for, although it took him years of planning. He had spent a good part of his life waiting to witness this very man with the beard and his wife, restrained and powerless. He glared at both of them with a smile playing on his lips as the shaft of his dagger cooled his clammy palm, with a graceful dance the blade sliced through the thick air. Hatred burned in his heart so deep that it was ingrained in each and every tissue of his body. The man with the beard rocked against the chair, pulling and twisting, trying to wrench himself free. His screams were barely muted by the duct tape gag.
The fool. There was nothing he could do now.
Not only the husband but the wife twisted and pulled, the heavy oak bed moved with her as she tried to free herself, praying and pleading, which Max couldn’t understand. He was about to give her the freedom she deserved; to let her free her soul from the burdens of the world and her unborn too; for he knew that it was never a possibility to give any child a safe and prosperous existence. Indeed, he felt it his duty to keep her from bringing a healthy and happy offspring into the world, only to turn them into filthy and wanton beings.
Max had never listened to them—never had, never would. He tightened his chest and placed the sharp edge of the curved blade over her shivering throat. Massacre dripped from the walls, collecting in pools of sticky crimson on the polished marble floor
