Page 49 of Lonely
I’d have to wait her out, or she’d make a mess.
Her hair skimmed the bucket’s rim as I positioned it beneath her head. Tears filled her terrified eyes as she used her core muscles to try to lift her body. I saw all the things she couldn’t say.
Please, let me go.
Don’t do this.
I’m scared.
Gravity had caused her skirt to slip to her waist, and her dark blonde triangle looked so pretty between her thighs. Even now, the Devil found ways to taunt me.
Lick it. Bite it. You know you want to.
I almost wanted to touch her, but we were beyond that. She would never lead me astray again.
Crouching down, I rested my arms on my thighs, watching her struggle. Her sweet, sweet sobs had me rock hard in my pants. But for once, I was clearheaded. We had played her game from day one. Now it was her turn to please me.
I shushed her again while trailing a finger across her cheek.
That’s enough. No more screaming.
If anything, she shrieked louder and clenched her stomach muscles as she lifted her upper body again. She soon fell back down, her face red from all the blood pooling in her head.
I stood back up and left her sobbing as I retrieved a sharpened knife from the wooden block on the kitchen counter. It slid free, gleaming in the streetlight pouring in from the window.
I returned to the hallway. When Anna saw the knife, her eyes flared wide, just like her nostrils, and she struggled even more.
Fisting a handful of her hair, I kept her still.
The blade gleamed at her throat while she screamed and wailed. The sound never fucking stopped. I clenched my jaw, irritated and aroused. She never knew when to shut up.
The knife was razor-sharp, so it took no effort at all to slice her delicate throat.
Her pale skin parted like softened wax, and blood gushed in thick waves from the split flesh, splashing into the bucket.
I angled her head, widening the deep slit in her throat. She fought, but not for long.
I was almost coming in my pants by the time she finally stopped moving, and I left her there as I stepped back to watch her dangle over the bucket.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
There was slick blood on my clothes and hands. I wasn’t quite as efficient with the bucket method as I’d hoped.
Luckily, I had thought ahead and protected the flooring.
I reached up with the knife gripped in my fingers and wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.
The distinct smell of copper hit my nose.
I studied the blade, my heart thudding hard, beating like a drum in time with the classical music playing in the background.
After washing my hands, I tidied up around the house and then shifted the heavy bucket out of the way, careful not to spill the contents.
I untied the rope from around Anna’s ankles, and her body collapsed to the floor with a hard thud.
I rolled it up in the plastic sheeting for now.
Sitting back on my knees, I studied her face through the several layers of clear plastic.
