The Rose Killer


It was late in the night, the moon was already high in the sky. The sea was breaking waves on the rocks of the cliff. The wind rustled against the roof of the old abandoned warehouse. But, beneath the sounds of nature, the shrill sound of frightened breathing echoed.


In the center of the filthy place stood a woman. Dirty and crying, tied to a chair with barbed wire around her hands and legs, her mouth covered with a cloth preventing her from screaming. Behind her a man was walking back and forth, it wasn't the first time he did that; but, this was the one that mattered, the one that would start it all. 


The man stopped walking and picked up the dagger, carefully and precisely began to slowly cut the woman's body. The woman's muffled screams echoed through the empty place, blood ran staining the clothes, her green eyes were watery and swollen, but little by little they closed a little more and more. 


The Assassin knew he didn't have much more time left to play with her, he stopped stabbing her torso and sighed. He brought the dagger closer to her neck, his hand trembling. "It doesn't get any easier", he thought.


He unceremoniously slashed her throat, blood gushed out, and the woman's agonized moans echoed in his head. When the chest of the chestnut stopped moving he knew it was all over. Her suffering was no longer going to be. From his briefcase he took out a cloth and carefully wiped the dagger. Then he took a fresh rose and placed it on the woman's legs, the blood covering her almost instantly. "Just one more step," he murmured.


A scalpel was the next thing he pulled out of his briefcase, sharp and thin, moving the woman's hair he settled in to finish his work. A fifteen was marked on the warm forehead, it almost looked like she was still alive, if it wasn't for the shortness of breath and loss of blood. 


The man put away everything he had used, walked out of the warehouse in the middle of the night, and listened to the sound of the breakwater. When he reached his car he carefully removed his blood-covered gloves and shoe covers as well as the suit that covered his workout clothes and carefully stuffed everything into a garbage bag, which he threw in the trunk. He got into the car, his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze distantly on the ocean. It was time to leave, but he wanted to remember that moment for when he got older and came to wonder if it had been worth it. But he knew in the back of his mind that it would, though perhaps he was wrong in his execution. 


A whisper came from his heart, "it's just the beginning".




Edited: 18.06.2022

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