The kill wasn’t where my triumph lay. Not even close. In fact, I found the entire act of death to be bittersweet and sad. Disappointing, really. It was in the torture and fear where my pleasure was. In the screams. Because there were worse things than death. Carving out an eye. Tearing fingernails from fingers, one by one. Forcing them to watch as I sliced deep into their flesh. Their fear. Fuck, I loved the fear. Ah, fuck. Glorious. Screams. Screams were the cherry on top of a big fucking sundae of agony.
