The Delicious High Of It All

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Killer

My mouth waters. My excitement grows. My high goes higher. My blade dances.

Her cries grow louder. Her fear rises. Her tears cascade.

It's an endless high as I stand above her and watch as I'm the cause of it all. My knife and I. My hand, bringing this torment and this high. Two completely different things caused by one. Caused by me.

It's delicious. It's exhilarating. It's addicting.

I want more. I need more. I need it to live. So I continue. I continue and continue and continue because I will never tire. Never tire of my knife. Of the girls. Of the fear and the pain and of the high that I feel with every slice, every cut, every carving that I put on each of their bodies. So I will go on. I will play this game. I will make it much more than what it was before and they will continue to run around in circles as they try to find clues. As they play detective.

And my knife will go on, held by my hand. The cries will grow louder. The high will go higher and no one will bring a stop to it. The candle light will continue to flicker. Their eyes will continue to search for an exit that doesn't exist. And I will continue to live off of this high that never seems to end because not even death could pull me down from my pedestal.

High and mighty. Me. That is what I am on my horse, because this high will never let me fall.

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