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That Experience ( Part Two )
The old woman's scream woke up the murderer from a slumber that took a wild ride into darkness. The fear in the victim's eyes energized the killer. Anne Carter stumbled toward the bathroom crying for help, sobbing, and randomly reaching for shadows that appeared and disappeared.
Though groggy from being abruptly awakened, the killer thought about that incident. It was the first time that a murder filled the killer with relief. It was a valve that just made the night more acceptable. It drowned out the heavy hatred that could stain any heart,
Watching Anne Carter begging for life was exhilarating and euphoric. Having the power to grant it or take it away just made it so rewarding.
The killer couldn't believe that taking someone's life could cause the level of panic the old woman was experiencing. Before the murderer could lay one finger on her the sorting or trying to make sense of her blubbering was an added bonus.
The killer was almost waiting for heart failure. The clutching of the chest, the abnormal heartbeat, the difficult breathing. It was what the killer wanted to see. Life expiring while fear had it by the throat. Women were more likely to have atypical symptoms than men. But the killer didn't want to weigh in too much on details. Life should vanish with the snap of a finger.
Just Die! Was what crossed the killer's mind.
Anne Carter refused to die of cardiac arrest. She wanted to live and she wasn't going to let her own organs be her downfall.
The killer remembered seeing her will to survive push death onto the floor. She remembered Anne Carter taking the punches in the face like a million dollar boxer. The will to live was strong, and no matter how old she was, she wasn't going to let death in. She would take the punishment all night if she had to.
The killer watched in amazement as the misery became a necessary survival skill. Accepting the fact that she could be hospitalized for the rest of her life superseded death. Putting someone out of their misery was just an old wives tale.
The killer then remembered the toothbrush. It was almost too perfect as the killer shoved it into her neck. It took some doing, but the toothbrush was in to stay. The pain was too much for Anne Carter as she fell to the bathroom floor trying to catch her breath.
The killer didn't need heart failure as death, pain and agony waited in silence, The killer stood up fixing Anne Carter with a cool, contemptuous gaze. Anne fiddled a bit with the toothbrush, but she couldn't get it to come out. Her fingers cramped as she tried scratching it away like a dog with fleas.
The body started to convulse and life with ending slowly. The killer was caught up in the moment. It was almost like witnessing a birth, but in reverse. Glory just filled the murderer with ecstasy. The killer found just enough strength to smile wide. Anne Carter's life was streaming upwards and out and the killer rejoiced.
That was a night the murderer would never forget. The taste was such a delight. The struggle was worth it.
The murderer reached for a bottle of scotch and poured it into a glass that was on the night stand. Two gulps and the glass was empty.
Reliving the murder kept the feeling of joy in the killer's heart. Of course, the murderer did not feel like a monster, it was just something that had to be done. Life was easy, but trying to stay alive when someone was killing you was the challenge. It was a challenge that the killer would do again.
Thinking about the next victim filled the killer's thoughts. It would have to be easier, and death would have to take its time. Pain and anguish should be front and center. That's what the murderer had in mind.
The killer poured another round of scotch and swirled it around the glass a few times. The medical examiner would have to perform an incredible autopsy and the police would be chasing their tales. That's just the way the murderer wanted it to be.
The killer swallowed the scotch and threw the glass against the wall. The shattered pieces stayed on the floor as the murderer crawled back into the bed.
More shattered lives was the last thing that popped into the killer's head as sleep became the next priority.
© 2017 Frank Atanacio