And so I attacked him. With all my might, with all the force that I could muster in my body, I lunged at him. I grabbed at his neck, scratched at his eyes, kicked, bit, swore, punched slapped. I kept my eyes open the entire time, blocking what blows of his I could, keeping myself protected so that I could out last him, so that I could beat him with time because I knew I wasnít strong enough to beat him with power. My rage fueled my actions, my endurance, my thoughts. His words had cut deeply into my psyche and I had snapped, there was no going back now, only all the way down one road or another. I was choosing the other road with all my might. It was him or me; and it was, most assuredly, going to be him.
I had an advantage over him because I actually knew what I was doing, he was only pretending. Throwing what he could at me, when he could. I didnít have strength but I had agility and knowledge. I had the power in this battle, not him and I could see it in his eyes as he realized it. I could see his eyes give up as I gripped his neck. Feel his arms groping, his hand grasping for help, for something to help. I could feel his body go limp as I smashed his head into the beige floor turned red from blood leaked. I could feel all my anger dissipate as he breathed his last breath into my face and the last words he heard were my berated tones of anger and rage.
After I cleaned the floor and wrapped him in a plastic bag, well, a few plastic bags, I took a shower and watched as the blood washed off of my body and drained out of the tub. I swallowed water the seemed the equivalent of the ocean and I stayed thirsty, I washed my body as hard and as much as I could without rubbing my skin off and I remained unclean. My hair was clotted and bushy from dry and wet blood and water; I had to wash it seventeen times before it felt like it was normal again. Once I dried off and dressed I sat out on the couch in the living room, staring and the black object lying in the middle of the floor.
Only one question left. What to do with the body?
"Satisfaction in Death" copyright 2007 by Bella Luna (email@example.com)
The text of this work was created by Bella Luna (firstname.lastname@example.org) and is her exclusive property. It is not to be used without her personal permission.