Page 4 of Deranged and Obsessed Omnibus: Vol 1

I stepped forward, watching his panic spike. That amused me. In one fluid motion, I caught his wrist and twisted hard enough he yelped and dropped the weapon. The blade hit the ground with a smallclangagainst the pavement, and I stooped just long enough to pick it up.

His gasp of fear was satisfying as I pulled him close with the hand still wrapped around his wrist, our faces barely an inch apart. “I’ve been anticipating this for weeks,” I whispered, knowing I no-doubt looked and sounded like the psycho I was.

In a split second, my grip switched from his wrist to his throat, and I shoved him against the brick building, feeling the impact reverberate through him. He struggled in my hold, but I was stronger. I had his knife in my hand and wrapped my fingers tighter around his throat, leaving my grip barely loose enough that he could swallow, which I felt against my palm.

Not even the stench of the garbage a few feet away could mask his fear.

I leaned my full weight into his body and squeezed my hand even tighter around his neck until I cut off his airflow. His survival instinct kicked in, and he clawed at my hand, desperate to get away.

For long seconds, I just stared into his face, seeing blood vessels break in the whites of his eyes, watching as his face turned red, then purple. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to breathe.

All while my cock throbbed.

I was so fucking hard.

Watching the life fade from another human, and me being the one who took it, gave me the greatest fucking high.

I knew he felt the evil intent around me, because his fear turned into something else. His eyes grew impossibly wider, and he shook his head, maybe thinking I wasreallya sick motherfucker and would fuck him before I killed him… or after.

I was fucked up, but not that much.

I squeezed his throat tighter until I knew with just a little more pressure I’d break his trachea. Brandon’s struggling was getting weaker, asphyxiation claiming him with its dark, unbreakable hold on him.

With his knife in my other hand, I lifted the blade and looked at it for a second, the muted streetlamp catching the metal and causing it to gleam.

“I’m going to cut you up, Brandon,” I said conversationally. “And as much as I’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, I’m now unsure of how I want to make you hurt.”

My brutality and savagery couldn’t be matched, and killing him so quickly by merely choking him to death just wouldn’t do. That would never be enough to feed the beast, so I loosened my grip a tiny bit so I could make this last longer.

His gasps were weak but pained, his fear tangible in the air. I closed my eyes and just let my other senses take over.

I listened to him struggle to breathe.

The scent of his horror and fear poured off of him.

The feel of his pulse started to beat slower under my vise-like grip.

I opened my eyes and looked into his face, tears streaming down his cheeks, sweat coating his forehead. I couldn’t wait any longer.

With precision, I brought the tip to his cheek and dragged it down, opening his skin. He couldn’t cry out with my hand still around his throat, so all he did was whimper. I groaned as I pushed the blade in even deeper. The coppery scent of his blood filled my nose, and another groan left me.

This is who I am. This is what I need.

I kept dragging the blade down, and when I got to his neck, I let go of his throat and immediately sliced open his jugular. Spurts of blood sprayed out from the gaping wound, but I wasn’t done.

Taking hold of his hand, I started sawing at his wrist. His gurgled moan was music to my motherfucking ears. I placed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the sound, although I’d love to hear him scream. It would’ve no doubt gotten me off.

I kept sawing until I got to the bone. He was so weak at this point that he didn’t struggle much anymore. The blood loss was substantial, leaking out of his neck and wrist. Spurts had covered my face and neck, but my clothing was black… dark enough to hide the evidence of my kill.

He was weeping, and I laughed, letting the pleasure coursed through me. This was what I needed. This violence, the fact that I inflicted pain and in the end… took a life.

I stepped back and stared at my handiwork as he sank to the ground. The knife wasn’t sharp enough to get through the bone, but I cut through skin and muscle and tendons, and that piece of him hung awkwardly to the side.

“That’s the hand you used to hit the women in your life, no?” I didn’t expect him to answer. I was just taunting him for my benefit.

He’d be dead in the next few breaths, and I got down on my haunches and brought my face close to his.

When his eyes closed and his wet, gurgled breathing lessened, I reached out and pulled his eyelids up, forcing him to look at me. I needed to see the last flicker of life extinguish from this disgusting vessel he called a body.

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