I walk around to his side and stand over him for a moment, smiling and probably looking like a madman. Maybe I am a madman—for the moment, anyway. I hold up one of my knives, kiss the flat of the blade, and flip it toward his face.
The knife slams into the soft, ashy ground to the left of Mack’s head. He flinches, squeezing his eyes shut and grunting. When he opens his eyes again, I toss the other blade. He flinches again as the knife makes a hole in the ground next to his right ear.
My body is on fire. I can feel my pulse in my chest, my temple, and the inside of my thighs as my blood pumps adrenaline through my system. My mind is flooded with disturbing thoughts and images, images that don’t belong in my own memories.
My new cellmate was, once again, regaling me with tales of his crimes. I didn’t even remember his name, but no matter what I would say to him, he wouldn’t stop talking.
“The first one was the best. Found her right outside the market. Waited until night before I grabbed her and pulled her into the trees. She was a looker, too, all red-eyed and screaming at me. When she saw my knife, she knew what was coming.”
I could see the whole scene in my head as my cellmate described it. I could see the rough, dark man grabbing a young woman and hauling her into the woods. I could see him holding her down and threatening her with a knife. I could see the excitement in his eyes and the terror in hers.
I felt sick, but the rough man just smiled at me.
“I slid a blade in her, just like a cock. It went in so easy, and the look in her eyes was beautiful. It felt so good.”
I swallowed back bile and glanced around the cell. There was nowhere for me to go. I could run for the toilet in the corner of the concrete room, but vomiting would be seen as a sign of weakness, and I didn’t want to be his next victim.
“It’s the sweetest thing in the world,” he said, “watching someone bleed out. You just have to put your hand on her chest and feel her last breath, her last heartbeat. It’s fucking powerful and so fucking good.”
He paused in his story just long enough to palm his dick. He leaned in close and grabbed my leg.
“You ever kill anyone, boy? You ever feel that kind of sweet release?”
“N-no.” I shifted away, but he gripped my thigh tighter.
“Well, what are you in here for, then? What kind of deviant are you?”
I shudder at the memory and swallow hard before I focus once again on the man on the ground.
I grin at him as I remove my long jacket and shirt. This is going to get messy, and I don’t want blood all over the few clothes I own. I keep eye contact as I reach down and loosen my belt. I set it gently aside before unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down over my hips, leaving just my boxers.
Mack’s eyes are wide with panic, and I realize what he must be thinking as I discard my clothing. I want him terrified—the way he terrified Ava—and the thought makes me smile even more. I lick my lips, enjoying the fear in his eyes before I drop to the ground and straddle him. I lean over and retrieve my blades from the ground and stroke the side of his face with the flat edge of my dagger. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I figure he’d be able to hear it if he weren’t so focused on his own pulse.
“You made a mistake,” I tell him. “You’ve probably made a few in your time, but no worries. You won’t be making any more.”
Pausing for a moment, I look around the tree line, making sure no one has approached the area. I listen carefully, but the only sound is the cool breeze and the trickle of the river.
I take a deep breath and steady myself. I slide my blade down over his jaw and then pause at his neck. He closes his eyes, waiting for me to slice his throat, but I don’t. I move farther down his body, stopping at his left side. I prod at his body, locating the bottom of his rib cage before I slowly insert the dagger.
He screams behind the gag and begins to thrash. I press against his shoulder to hold him down before I pull the knife out of his flesh and punch him in the face.
“None of that,” I say. “It won’t do you any good anyway.”
I raise myself up enough to roll him onto his stomach and slide down a little. I can hear him screaming “no” over and over again into the gag, and I wonder if Ava cried as he held her down.
“You think I’m going to do to you what you did to her?” I ask, snarling at him. “Lucky for you, you just aren’t my type. I might be a monster of sorts, but I’m not that kind of monster, you sick fuck.”
He thrashes hard enough that I hear a pop as he dislocates his own shoulder. He screams futilely as he tries to roll to one side, but I keep him pinned down.
“Did you know that long ago, before the eruption and all that, there were serial killers all over the country? Some of them were so fucked up, they got killing and orgasm all switched around in their heads—liked to use knives on their victims, and they couldn’t get it up unless there was blood and death. Sexual sadists, they were called.
“Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe you can’t get it up unless you’re hurting someone at the same time. Then again, it’s entirely possible that you’re just a drunken asshole who took advantage because you thought you could get away with it. I don’t really give a shit. Whatever it is, you aren’t going to do it again.”
Deep, throaty breathing escapes from him and then another muffled scream. I feel his body clench under me as he tries to shift away.
“I don’t think so.” I lean heavily against his shoulder as I move the tip of the knife across his hip. I stab into his backside as he moans and writhes, carefully choosing the spot where my blade en
ters him. I have to keep the angle right to make sure the cut isn’t too deep or in a vital spot on his body. I don’t want him to bleed out too quickly. Blood flows over my hand, and I have to stop for a moment to wipe my blade on his skin.