Time to kill


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"Well you've got some time to kill then" she said,,, little did she know...

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Chapter 1

Kill some time she said. A simple oft used phrase. Sprinkled casually into the conversation like a drop of rain.
Stupid. Stupid fucking phrase too. Idiotic. I mean, what does that actually even mean. Dumb bitch lisa, if her name tag was real,  made me irrationally angry as soon as she had said it. Now look where that got her. Laying here in front of me after some of the best sex ever. Epic, sweaty, connected sex. Long limbed, hair tangled, endorphins and pheromones mixed and mingled. Pleasure. Legs splayed apart, her moistness open pink and swollen from my lips, and cock work. I could almost taste her scent, a soft peachy smell. Soap or shampoo or scent from a bottle. She had a light sheen of sweat across her top lip, intermingled with the fine downy hairs there, visible at the right angle, slanted in the light. For a moment i drifted back to kissing and biting those swollen tender pink lips. I had held back in my kiss. Wanting to tear and bite but she wasn't quite ready. She was later though. Mmm.  I  reached absently around myself trying to find the source of a mild stinging sensasion. Found raw skin and searched for a reflection. I turned in my awkward self embrace and peered over my own shoulder, seeing raw red track marks  down my back. It reminded me of a climber, clinging before a fall, nails tearing out on the way down. Long raw screams into my abyss.Fuck.. bitch.
Was good sex though. Well worth the anticeptic bite i knew would come. 
I was drawn back to her by the sound, a soft barely audible drip a sensation of sound.
Blood had run across the sheet canyon in a deep ravine. It meandered this way and that in no hurry , traversing the veins of the sheets and finding its way to gravity. It dripped gently down onto my reclaimed wooden floor boards. Always to the cracks.
The knife stood up taut at right angles from her sternum, a mast without a sail. I had driven down hard, buried it to its stainless steel blade and handle all moulded into one piece by someone somewhere in germany hilt. Tried to beetle her to the board.  Deep. Precise fucks.  Craftsmanship with my artistry.
I know what i need to do now to dispose of her because it's not my first time. My cherry done popped.  Sharp tools will cut and dismember, hands busy packing and stacking her drained washed parts. Black bags unrolled, crumpled. Acrid bleach eye stinging acid.
I turn back to the mirror a wry smile at play on my lips. Handsome devil.
There's nothing in my eyes. Only my dark abyss of empty.

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