“No, please god no.” Tom cries out and I’m elated. Nothing brings me more joy than when they start begging for their pathetic lives. And let’s be honest, that’s exactly what they are. If I’m coming after you it’s a sign, you’re not really living in the first place.
Blood speckles my face while some is running down my arm from the first swing of my axe.
“I have a girlfriend.” He stammers in response, I laugh. It’s manic and deep.
“A fucking girlfriend? Let me guess you met her on the streets?” I’m not looking for an answer, just fucking with him.
His eyes dart around this dimly lit room. He’s trying to figure out where he is, but he’ll never figure it out or be alive long enough to.
We are a couple of miles past Rider high school in Illinois. I purposely purchased this shack for this exact reason, it’s in the middle of the woods and even looking for it you’d probably still miss it. Raising the axe above my head, I wait for Tom’s eyes to meet mine.
That moment my victims see that they’ve come face to face with the devil is one that I live for.
He continues to beg as I bring the axe down on his stomach. There’s no stopping until his insides are spilling out all over the floor. I don’t have to be messy; I choose to be. The way I see it if it’s a clean kill it didn’t happen. Although sometimes a clean kill is called for if there’s a chance there will be witnesses but only then.