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Engel's picture
Submission type:



He brought his hand up and stared in disbelief. There was blood on his palm. The blood was his. It was warm. It was dark.

"Baby?" he said, his voice weak and ladden with doubt.

"I'm here," the voice behind him said. The voice was cold. The voice was calm.

"Baby? What... have you done?" he said and fell to his knees. He felt no pain. He was in shock. 

"Are you hurt?" she said, but there was no alarm to her voice.

He started to choke. The knife stab was placed with prison-like precision. 

"Are you in pain, baby?" she asked again, as if taunting him.

He couldn't answer. His heart was racing. His heart was burning. He slumped forward and fell on his face. Strangely enough, he could feel the cold concrete floor but his mind still ignored the pain. He just couldn't accept what was happening.

She knelt beside him and caressed his face as he was fighting for his next breath. Then her palm, her long fingers patted the clone collar fused to his neck: "Don't worry. You'll be back. The thing is..."

Her voice betrayed just a hint of tenderness.

"...sometimes I just feel like killing you."





Joe Spivey's picture

... Even so. It's hardly cricket not to give a chap a bit of warning before you thrust several inches of steel into a chap's vitals.

(Great little story :D )

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Subdane's picture

((Engel really does keep nice company. 

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