To say that he was not intruiged by the dark red beauty that decorated her blouse would be an understatement. To say he was not truly engrossed with the sight of his blade sliding out, back and forth, slowly, would also be an understatement. He watches as his new victim cries out in agony and despair from the slow torture, trying to make him stop. Yet, her struggle is weak, for she has lost too much blood, her skin as white as paper.. He smiles at her attemps of  pulling his hands from her body, trying to get him to loossen up his grip, but to no avail.

Why do you struggle,so? Do you not realise that you are already dead? Why do you still put up a fight?

She tries to speak, but instead chokes on the blood that has covered her face due to the massive split going down the center of .

Shhh. It's okay. There are no need for words... Just let me hear your last breath.

He covers her nose with his right leather gloved hand tightly. Her body starts to shake sporadically, back in forth as she flails her arms weakly, looking for anything to grasp.

But then it all stops.

The only sound there was were her last breath.

Save me...