Nothing Bites Like I Do

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I am the ghost that makes you suffer. The darkness that keeps you awake. I am the two fanged beast legend has spoken of and I suppose I'm considered the Boogeyman when vicious. I am charming, beautiful, narcissistic; partially man and partially beast. I am not of this world but part of this world. I am from hell but made in Gods image.

The rain pours to the ground crushing the grass and washing away the blood and I must return to work as my lunch hour at the night shift of Montgomery and Wilder inc. will be over in fifteen minutes. The darkness consumes all; primarily the look in my eyes. I sinned today.

Today a man named William 'Bill' Robinson lost his life. Mourn him for me as I yet to feel what you call guilt. I feel shame as if one of my coworkers found his lifeless body for some godforsaken reason this was traced back to me I would be arrested and have to face an endless life sentence in one of your traitorous prisons. Bill Robinson had a family; He had children. He was not without sin yet his neighbors might have considered him a good person, loving neighbor, great Father, and husband. I tend to write obituaries. I don't know this bastard at all. I couldn't care less. I enjoyed watching his soul leave his body and my teeth marks still hinder his corpses bare neck. My soul is down in the fire.

After returning to work I'm to sit and act as though nothing has happened. My engagement with Bill Robinson was completely void and now I never knew him; Despite sharing the intimate moment of his death together.

The blood pours down the poor bastard's chest while he gasped for air and I laughed while I watched it drip. Such a waste. I wanted to eat your goddamn heart, Bill! I wanted to savor the moment but duty calls; There's no rest for the wicked I suppose. Am I a demon? I need to know.

My secretary is a blonde, short, blue eyes. Today she's wearing a plaid mini skirt and a nice long sleeved black top. Her name is Clair. A fat girls name and not suiting to her. I'd sooner call her bunny. She's cute like a bunny and today she forgets to make the copy, start the printer. and bring me the trades section.

Clair smells of vodka and you may be wondering why I keep someone who sounds so incompetent on staff and the only answer I can give you is she's simply not observant.

I myself am an intellectual. An average height man with a dark brown trendy faux hawk my barber offers to only the most elegant and suiting of his clients. I'm muscular but not overly. You can't tell through a suit aside from my broad shoulders and I'm almost always wearing a suit. A dark gray Armani blazer and a red and black power tie.

My face is young. It's so young you may guess I'm in my twenties and even if you do begin to notice the aging in my face, around my eyes you'll be distracted by the powerful, radiant green glow they give in the darkness.

I'm pale but very beautiful. I do not go in to the sunlight and I do not smile. If I smile I smirk and even then it's not for long. Everyone tells me to smile but I simply do not enjoy it.
"Do you want the trade section, Michael?" She asks nervously as she's finally realized she's forgotten to do the most basic of the mundane tasks I assign to her. She seems melancholy. She seems distant. She always seems distracted as if she is literally watching the hamster run on the wheel in her head.

"Yes, Please!" I say in a peppy, rewarding tone. I want to tear your fucking eyes out and shove something phallic into your sockets, Claire. I am the beast in Armani exchange, AX. I wear only Hugo Boss cologne as it seems to mask the smell of my achievements quite well. I have a tendency to overdress for things but you can never overdress for Montgomery and Wilder. I work as an accountant, a bookkeeper, and financial adviser. I've done this job for almost eleven years. It's hard to keep a job until retirement when your immortality suggests you'll live forever. A mere suggestion; behead me.

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