Prologue

Have you ever killed someone? Feel your victims blood run down your body? See life leave one's eyes as you slowly insert a sharp knife through someone's chest? Hear the bones break and the organs rupture? The fountain of blood that comes pouring out of the once living human? Some people do it for fun. Some do it for a thrill or an adrenaline rush, and some even do it because it arouses them. To see a victim strung up, with their guts spilled out onto the floor with the freshly cut gash across their stomach. For me, it's all three.

Slowly, I pulled the kitchen knife out of her throat. She had been bleeding out for some time, her neck and chest drenched in her blood from the several cuts and slashes I put into her. She deserved it though. "I killed her. I finally killed her." I thought, feeling a small sensation of joy, and sadness. Another one of my problems had been solved. Slowly, I stood up, and limped over to the nearby chair leaning up against the wall, my hand applying pressure to my stomach. There was the cold feeling of being in a basement that covered my skin in goosebumps. As I sat down, the knife slipped from my fingers and onto the stone floor. Weakly, I lifted my shirt up to just above my stomach. Blood dripped between my fingers as I slowly pulled my hand away from the stab wound. I could taste my own blood on my lips, a small trickle of it dripping from my mouth. It was in my teeth. The warm taste of fresh vital fluid. It fell from my lip and dripped down onto my chest.

The pain from my stomach was almost unbearable. I could feel my heart pumping faster and faster. My breathing was rapid, and I was practically hyperventilating. There had to be something nearby to stop the bleeding. My brain was overthinking, trying to come up with some idea. Then it struck me.

"It will do." I thought, taking my shirt off, and grabbing the knife. Slowly, I cut a hole through it and began ripping the fabric until I had enough to wrap around my torso, knotting it tightly. I groaned out in pain as the pressure from the cloth pressed up against my wound. It wasn't enough, but it was better than nothing. I put my shirt back on and shivered, the lower half of my stomach now partially exposed. Faintly I could hear the sounds of approaching sirens. "He called them. He actually did" I thought to myself. Weakly, I pushed against my knees to help stand myself up. The knife I had dropped was retrieved, and slowly, I limped towards the stairs. "Is this really what it's like to be stabbed. I can see why people don't like it." My feet shuffled past the limp male corpse that had perished just before the women's. His neck broken at the bottom of the stairs, as well as one of his legs. It bent in an inhuman way, the bone having torn through the skin around the knee. Beside him was another male figure. He had been stabbed several times by an artists penknife, that as of this current moment, had found a home in the socket where his eye once was. The organ had been crushed beneath my boot not soon after it was removed.

It hurt to walk up those stairs, to pull myself up to the railing. Blood dripped from my hair and fell into my eye. I blinked a few times before wiping it away with my already bloody hand, probably making my face look worse. When I finally reached the top of what felt like a never-ending staircase, I started making my way to the front door. This was the feeling that I loved. The adrenaline rush. Three people were dead in my basement, by my hand, and the police were on there way. It felt thrilling. Never in my life did I think I would end up like this though; limping through my kitchen, leaving bloody footprints behind me with a slash in my stomach. I was starting to feel light headed. Consistent and rapid breathing was starting to get to me. Police sirens could be heard getting closer, and soon the flashing red and blue lights shined through my windows.

"No, I wasn't just going to be arrested." I thought, "I had to get back to her. She would protect me like she always does. I'll kill anyone who stands in my way, I don't care who they are." Killing someone was always the easy way out of a problem. There was a knock at the door.

"Hello, this the BCPD, We're responding to a call about a potential murder." I could hear them say. The door was technically left open, and I could hear the creaking of it slowly opening. Making my way out of the basement entrance, and into the kitchen, I avoided the light that suddenly shinned down the dark hallway behind me.

"Hello?" I heard another voice say. Taking a deep breath, I looked towards the nearest window. It was Just above the sink. Slowly, I lifted myself up onto the counter and tried pulling it open. My bloody fingers kept slipping and prevented me from getting any sort of grip. Shaking my head, I climbed down and tried running to the back door.

"Hey!" The voice said, followed by a bright light being shined in my direction. I tried pulling the sliding glass door open, but couldn't get the lock undone.

"Drop the weapon." Another voice said. "Get on the ground!" I turned to look at the two lights and held up a hand to block it. All I could see was the blinding light, nothing else.

"I said, drop the weapon!"

Slowly, I glanced down at the bloody knife in my hand, then towards the light. Everything happened so fast. I slowly raised my knife to the two officers, trying to keep them away from me while I reached for the handle of the glass door again, only I didn't get the chance to. The last thing I heard was a gunshot, and everything went dark.