She struggles feebly against her bonds. She has little strength left, but at least she has courage, or desperation. After the fact they're much of a muchness, really.
I slice her face again. It doesn't look pretty, but then again, it never did. I get really close so I can look at the fear in her eyes, see it not just on the surface of the eyeball but deep in the retina, where the fear really dwells. I speak low and she follows human instinct - she stops screaming to hear what I have to say. It's an old trick interviewers use to keep control over recalcitrant interviewees. And what I have to say is pretty gosh-darn important even though I am almost only whispering it.
"I'm going to kill your children."
Before she can even begin to deal with that, I stab her. The heart isn't so far from the front of the chest, only about 5cm. You can stab someone to death with a paring knife. I use rather more than that. I make sure her last thought is of her children dying.
The way she purses her lips for one final scream tells me everything I need to know. Just as fear dwells in the retina, last thoughts are always betrayed by mouth structure.
"My children! No!"
These are the words she utters as her lower lip buckles and she goes limp. I yank my twenty-four-inch carving knife from her chest, admiring its blood-slicked blade. Rather more, indeed.
"Much of a muchness," I tell her hideous corpse. "Can't get much more much than that."
I'm holding my breath. I let the old air out and inhale deeply; perhaps I breathe in her escaping soul. There is silence, and then noise. I can hear the approval, it fills the room.
I don't need to be judged. They don't need to voice their opinions. I already know: I'm through to the finals on Fox's America's Next Serial Killer!
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Reine/ril