The girl screamed and Edwin smiled. "Don't scream, it'll take away the romance." The way Edwin said the word sent vile rising in her throat. Edwin clamped his hands down on her ankles. "Don't squirm."
He looked at the white sheets. He'd have two options tomorrow: bleach them or throw them away. If he threw them away he'd have to buy new ones and go into town.
The girl wouldn't stop screaming. Edwin had been more than kind to her. Gave her a home, meals, warmth, showers, a place to sleep, a library, a piano, a ball room, and himself. Why was she being so dramatic now? All good things must come to an end.
Edwin grabbed the knife and licked the blade. He laughed at the girl's hysterical screaming. "I've enjoyed you, Grace, but now you are just a dead pet to me. Enjoy hell." He smiled and brought the knife to her chest. Blood squirted all over Edwin's face and the white sheets. He smiled at the sight. Her chest opened up and he could see her insides; her heart still beating, her lungs still trying to be useful, all the blood and muscle. The gruesome sight made Edwin smile.
He had been planning his next victim for awhile. It'd been a girl, seventeen, with brown hair that waves in the most perfect way, that went to her elbows. Her eyes are hazel, her nose and lips quaint. Her face was soft, like a natural airbrush.
Her name? Jaxson Anne West.
Edwin had practiced how to say her name to make her swoon every time. It became a hobby, saying names in the most sexual way. He'd accent the X, and go light on the last half. Jaxson.
She'd be ready any day. Her mother is on her deathbed and Edwin's just waiting for the old hag to die. Then he'd do my magic, and he'd do as he does best.
You're mine, Jaxson.