Miss Angelina [✔]

[22] Nemesism

It is undoubtedly apparent that those in my profession, the profession of killing, must gain a taste for it. There's an art form to death, taking your tools of the trade, and a beautiful canvas of the human form, and creating a masterpiece is something you cannot let go of. Perhaps this is why I'm not surprised when I walk upon Luke's masterpiece. I could smell the burning of the fireplace, and the aroma of candles before entering the house, but the impression I had gotten from this differed completely from what I was met with.

There he was a clenched fist around a pretty blonde's neck, a sly grin plastered on his face. Just that alone would not have scared me. Just that alone I would have been fine with - but it wasn't that alone. It was so much more. Only ten steps from the doorway started a pile of bodies. If, like I, you were looking down at the floor upon entering, your eyes would hit the heel of a woman first, white speckled with red dots - but then as your eyes follow up her leg her body is interrupted by another heel.

This is where my head had come up. A dozen women piled upon each other in the centre of the room - a pool of their blood had formed around them soaking into their skin. This blood intersected a trail that runs from the pile all the way up the stairs. It was evident that they'd been killed elsewhere and dragged down here slowly. I had questions right there - how many were strewn around the house, how did he kill this many women alone, unaided? Had he lured them all in one by one and killed them all upstairs, or had he invited many all at once and just gradually made his way around them?

"You deserve this, don't you." I heard him breathe out. The blonde seemed to shake her head at first, but staring at him made her change her mind as though she expected a different outcome if she did so. This alone almost made me want to help her - but instead, I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and didn't say a word or make a sound. I doubted our prior relationship would save me from his heated wrath.

Luke's grip on this girl was tight, and there was plenty of reason to believe he was going to strangle her to death. He brought his hand up and smeared blood into the girl's pale skin. She began sobbing after that - and he grew tired of it quickly, and as a result, his blood-covered hands gripped her head and pushed her to the floor. He placed his foot on top of her head and pressed her head into the bloodstained wood floor. I could almost feel her terror and pain radiating from her - she looked wholly broken, lipstick smeared around her mouth, mascara running down her face from the tears this night had brought. Then he placed a knife in front of her face and her eyes glazed over.

Part of me was staring at this scene in terror; the other part, the part I couldn't lose was excited. It was pleasurable for that side to see fear, to have someone beg for their life. He had requested she lick the knife, and she did so with hesitation and concern - of course, she needn't have been concerned quite yet. It was when he thrashed the knife down her throat and forced her to hold it there by her teeth where she should've been concerned. His fingers grasp her hair, forcing her head to turn towards him. The darkness surrounding him had vanished momentarily, a genuine smile decorating his face for a few, fleeting seconds before he began to bash her skull against the floor. His intentions were simply to dislodge the knife from her mouth, but she refuses to let it go.

He looks up for a moment, and his eyes gaze upon me, which is soon followed by a grin. His face is covered in both dried and fresh blood. He's been at this awhile it seems. I watch as he turns and grabs something from behind him - it wasn't until he brought a sharp blow to the base of her skull that I realised he'd demolished some of the furniture and was using the leg of a table to do so. He then straddles the girl, taking hold of her throat once again and squeezing tightly, there isn't time for her to scream, his thumbs pushing down. She wheezes, trying to take deep breaths but failing. When it's over, he sits looking down at her for a few moments, admiring the glow of death, before throwing her on top of the pile.