He’s too smart to scream, he knows that at this point in the game its all about conserving energy.

Somewhere deep in his soul he truly believes he’s going to get though this. I can read it in his eyes. He thinks he’s going to get out of here alive. He won’t. That I know for sure. I’ve cut him far too deep. And trust me when I say I know how deep is too deep.

As if to prove my point blood escapes from around his hands. He’s not applying enough pressure. I presume he can’t. The shock of what’s happened to him has probably set in, dragging away his strength.

Watching him stumble about aimlessly is quite entertaining. With each second that passes his steps become more, and more clumsy.

My eyes dance over the shining blade handle sticking out of his thigh, the moonlight dances across it as he stumbles about in the night.

My focus remains on his thigh. The way it twitches every time he takes a step keeps my interest… When I tear my eyes away from the amusing sight I laugh at the stunned look covering his face.

He finally realizes that its over. To soon if you ask me. I guess I might have gotten a little too happy with the first stab. Usually I enjoy prolonging the deaths of my victims. But today, for some reason I couldn’t seem to refrain from driving my blade as far into him as it would go on the first stab. I knew the moment I felt it come out of the other side it was over… Stabbing him in the thigh was just for kicks.

With each passing step he moves closer and closer to the freshly dug grave. As much fun it would be to watch him literally fall to his own death I step forward and steady him.

I’ve become far too fond of that knife to let it be buried with him.

I pull on the handle, slowly. Pulling like I don’t have a care in the world. Even in the darkness I’m able to make out the deep red color as it drips from the blade of my knife down to my fingertips. My stomach knots as thick drops of blood roll down my knuckles.