KILLINGSOMETIME

Where the hell are you?  I keep returning here, looking over the embankment, recalling the precious memories, but you never come.  I just don’t get it.  Those were moments of sheer joy and ecstasy that we shared here beside the railway.  Remember sweetheart, how turned on we got?

I can see your eyes now, hazed over with fear or excitement as we dragged his struggling body down to the line.  It was me who had the knife, so I made the first blow, through his stomach, the blood spilling over my hands, warm and fresh.  Then I reached into his body and pulled out a handful of his guts.  We could see the horror in his eyes as he saw his own innards being dragged out of him.  I so wanted it to last longer, but you muttered something about him suffering and put your hands round his throat, he stopped breathing in seconds.  Never mind, it was our first time killing together, maybe on the next occasion we can drag it out a bit.

I recall admiring your strength as you threw his lifeless body onto the tracks, then we lay concealed in the long grass, waiting for the train to come and cut him to pieces.  I was still holding the knife when I begged you to fuck me and you did good and proper, where his blood had spilled and didn’t we get covered in it?  Loved the feel of blood on my naked skin, so primeval, how I laughed.  You weren’t into it so much, I think you vomited afterwards.

I don’t understand why you don’t call or text and so I come here.  I keep hoping like any decent murderer you’ll return to the scene of the crime.  On the embankment, you feel so close to me.  I miss you so much.  It was an amazing first date, but I’ve noticed that for some reason you’ve closed your account on the site - where I first suggested that we kill sometime together.