They Never Learn

by Layne Fargo

So tonight I prepare: picking out the perfect outfit, shaving my legs, shaping my nails. All the things most women do to prepare for a date. But little do they know: killing a man is so much more satisfying than fucking a man could ever be.

It’s exhausting, being in my head. I wish I could stop thinking. I wish I could be like everyone else.

Bash’s eyes rove over me again, following the seams of my dress like a road map over my curves. “You don’t look like you need any help.” He’s right: I don’t need any help. But in a second, he will.