A Small Lesion

A small lesion on my hand caused the simplist of pain, to which I knew there was such great pleasure in the feeling. The feeling of blood ebbing away from the body, causing my heart to beat faster, was a great sensation. Heart pumping, heavy breathing and head pounding causing me to casually drift from this life to the next, only briefly however. Even on a miescule scale I could almost feel myself going into a trance or an out-of-body state. Such a feeling could only truly be appreciated by a person like me; different, out of the norm, derranged, disturbed, whatever you will. Either way the feeling was just to intimate for another to experience. I guess some would call me a killer. 

I let the blood drip slowly onto the body beneath me, alive of course, making her feel uncomfortable whilst she is delicatley breathing. Her head is moving from left to right, slowly at first, until she wakes and screams in fright. I snigger and chuckle at the thought of her struggling beneath me, trying to escape from the ropes that bound her here in this room. Of course she can't escape but the fun of it is seeing her try without succeeding. Her body is moving back and forth against the floor and she is edging to the door. Thinking she will escape and I will let her off will be the biggest mistake she has made.

"Where do you think you're going Sarah?" I say in an innocent voice, almost too convincing for myself, and peel away the tape that is placed neatly onto her mouth.

"Please let me go. I'll do anything. I won't tell anyone. I pro..." She counters in short and breathy stages, she will die soon and I will have completed my hour of pleasure.

"YOU PROMISE!" I cut her off with such ferocity in my voice that her head turns violently away and she mutters under her breath something I couldn't hear. "A lot of people have made promises to me before, the only problem with them was that I had no sympathy for them so they died anyway. You, however, my dear are special." I say in a softer tone and caress her face, stroking her hair and pulling one away.

I slowly lift the hair to my nose and breathe deeply so that the aroma fills my nostrils. Blond hair is different in a sense, it has a more vulnerable smell and makes the killing more intimate and pleasurable. I pull the hair back down, so that it scrapes down my face and stops at my lips. I lick the tip sensuously so that it disturbs her even more. She watches me with intense eyes, so I close mine whilst comitting the action ensuring that she almost vomits. I then drop the hair on her feet, she screams and kicks out. Another chuckle escapes my lips.

"Why are you doing this?" she says and vomits on the last word, maybe from the heat intensity, the blood or me, either way I don't care. She slowly turns her head back and looks me straight in the eyes, pleadingly, but there is something else within them. Something none of the other victims had, a defience, an act of pure hatred to show that she isn't going to be as easy to kill as expected. Maybe my hour will last longer and become two. Or maybe she is just-

"Oi, Bastared! I asked you a fucking question. Answer me now." 

The ferocity of her voice, this time, makes me jump and startles me from my thoughts. 20 minutes have passed and by now she should be weaking but she's not. This is becoming extremely difficult and annoying.

"Why am I doing this?" I repeat "Because I am a certain and unique person who gain pleasure from the torture of others. Why else would you be here? Why would I tie you up and ensure that you don't escape? Why would I drip blood erotically onto your body?."

"Yeah, well that's not a reason. That's an excuse, to hide the lies that are buried within your fucked up brain. If you had realised by now that I'm different then you are clever. You won't get me to back down like the rest of them. I'm not mentally weak. You see you'll realise sooner or later that there IS something special about me." 

She forces the word 'is' out and chuckles herself when she has finished speaking. I almost couldn't beleive it but there was something strange about her, and I did realise as soon as she awoke. She wasn't detained by the decaying corpses that lie messily around the room, the hanging body from the ceiling with blood dripping endlessly from his throat, the vomit that is all over the room. The aroma didn't even deter her, that took a long time and a great deal of effort to produce. Even as she looks at me now there is nothing but hatred, the pleading look from before was gone.