Life's A B***h And Then You Die

Life's a b***h and then you die

Plunging in the long knife into his delicate flesh, blood spewed across the walls. Drops of blood covered her face as she look upon the dying man as he slowly stopped. That excruciating pain wasn't enough! The pain he had thrusted upon her, he'd changed the whole personality of what she was. The pitied man laid gasping for breath so with yet another plunge of the knife she dug it straight into his heart. A simple flick of her wrist and the twist of the knife she pulled it down ripping through his body.

 

Leaving the blood splattered room she held the knife in her hands covered by black leather gloves she whipped blood off. She left the cloth, now ridden with the deep red blood, on the floor discarded. The door was left open showing the only light in the darkest of nights. A horror sight for the next passer by.

 

Entering this large house, too big for one person. She began to strip off and change into clean cloths. Dipping the leather cloths into boiling hot water to kill off any bacteria and DNA several times this was repeated. This was done every time before being put into a normal washing machine.

 

Sat down. This large room brought back loving and terror some memory's. She picked up a book, it was turquoise with a gold floral pattern across the cover, she opened it and began to read.

 

 'I was no hit man. I was wronged and in my life and line of work death is the only answer.' 

"Take her by the hand, tell her goodbye, Kiss her goodnight" he told Devon hold the gun straight against his head. There was many people in the room and each had their part to play. He was no angel my Devon but he was mine. I was making him better he'd given it all up. What they had known him as was gone, forgotten.

 

I watched, sitting clung to the banister looking through gaps in the door. Hearing the creaking of the door I ran straight up into the bedroom. I pretended to be asleep.

 

 Gently he woke me up. I'd never seen him cry before. I held him so closely, I felt tear drops on my shoulder as we held on for dear life. I could hear their steps outside, they were escorting him to his death. He whispered in my ear "Don't move, just stay here, stay safe my love."

 

She read her recollections. As through they happened not long ago. Her heart beated like a thousand drums. Blood rushed so fast warming her making her hot and clammy.

 

 "No!" My voice hushed slightly "don't go, please" I held on to his hand. He pushed my hand away from his, as he began to walk out of dark bedroom.

 

They thundered in restraining him holding him there right in front of me. He fought back, oh my, did he fight. This was an unfair fight he was over powered and out numbered. Tears ran down my face as I watched him as they held his head back giving a clear shot. With one single blow, he was down. Blood across the wall and my face, my arms, my whole body. I screamed. They were gone with in a flash.

 

Tears streamed down her face as she read each gastly word. She closed the book immeditatly wondering why she ever brought it down. Slowly walking up the grand stair case she got to the room at the back of the house.

 

She could bare to look at the door, so opened with one gentle push.

 

With book in hand, she placed back onto the table next to the blood ridden bed. As she looked upon the walls she saw blood splatters that had not been cleared away. A constant reminder, a memorial. Breathing slowly she held on to the desk as she stepped out.

 

She walked past her blades all set, organised, ready for the kill. What could haunt a person most is the fact that blood and gore could not make so much fear compared to her love and lose of her one true lover.

 

Walking back I clutched a blade ready just in case. I placed it under my pillow. They always came back if the job wasn't done. As long as I was alive. The Job was not done.

 

Even hearing a slight movement I 'd slash the air with the blade I kept close. I wasn't afraid I was prepared. I went back to sleep, ready for the nest day, the next hunt, the next kill.

Author's Note

something different i guess

Well no it's not something different to what I write reading back on stories from when I was younger it's going back to basics.

I seem like an odd child don't I?