Full Brutal

by Kristopher Triana

Women look rather beautiful naked (provided they aren’t pigs or trolls). Men, on the other hand, just look gangly, hairy and awkward, like they’ve been made from the less desirable scraps left behind after the creation of women.

He’s making it her fault. God, I love this. “A man has needs,” he said. “And you came at me so hard.” Now it’s my fault too. Funny how men aren’t much different than boys.

Fucking some guy who had nothing to lose from doing so would only make him happy, and that would irritate the piss out of me.

Murder was the life-changing moment I had hoped for when losing my virginity.

But there is no power as thrilling as being able to completely decimate another human being, to demoralize and deconstruct their very soul until all that’s left of their fragile sanity is frenzied, blurry tatters. It makes a girl feel like a goddess.

On the ride over I listened to my favorite driving soundtrack—the dead static at the end of the AM spectrum, turned all the way up.