Oh it was beautiful, slipping the blade up under his ribs, the resistance of his lungs, and then the blood, running hot against my hand, sending a thrill of pleasure and excitment up my spine. He didn't even struggle, he just went limp in my arms, I couldn't hold him up, so I let him slip to the ground, gently of course. I pulled my knife free and relished in the deep smell of blood and death around me. Then i knelt down beside him and looked into his eyes, watching, searching for that infintismal spark of light i knew was still there, I hadn't killed him, not yet. I reached my hand up into the slit i had made and probed gently, feeling the slick viscera of his body, sliding up and up until i reached his heart, just barely beating. I held it in my hand, feeling it slowly beat until it faltered and stopped. I looked into his eyes and saw the shroud of death viel them. I felt the thrill of having killed him, i could feel his blood steaming on my arm and on my clothes. my nose flared with that foreign smell of someone coming. angry at having to leave him like this, i ran. I didn't murder him, i told myself, I freed him.

just a little odd, but hey, aren't we all.