I wiped my mouth and returned to the truck, slamming the door shut. Pressing my palms against my eyes in a futile attempt to calm myself. The thrill of taking her breath laced my blood with adrenaline, threatened to overthrow my sanity completely. Her face, blue and gasping flashed in my mind, and my breathing became erratic.

I was there again. She was here beside me, convulsing on the console. I leaned over and pressed my face to the little stain she left behind, savoring the last thing she given the world. I panted, remembering.

When I finally came to, nearly twenty minutes had passed since disposing of her body. I realized that I didn't have much time to clear out. Starting the truck, I headed out, taking a left at the next exit, driving forty kilometers before pulling to the side of the road.

Exiting, I walked to the hood and lifted it up. Pulling random wires and unscrewing screws. The engine was smoking when I was done. Now all I had to do was wait, just like she had. I sat on the curb, contemplating the occurances of the day. I hadn't set out to kill, I'd gone to relieve stress. Which I did, part of my mind whispered contentedly.

It was odd, really. I had been driving to Victoria when on the side of the road stood Quibby. Or, some woman who - for a spilt second - resembled Quibby. That was, really, all it took. All it took for me to pull over and allow her room. All it took for me to take her breath.

In return she took my sanity.

Then again, I supposed that was part of the deal. My lucidity diminished with each breath I took, my tithe for my pleasure. Some small part of my brain whispered that I would have to stop eventually. After all, there is an end to all good things, isn't there? I shook that voice out of my head.

I was roused from my musings when a large blue minivan pulled alongside my truck. The window rolled down, and an attractive brunette stuck her head out. I smiled at her, relieved and disappointed. She looked nothing like Quibby.

"Hey, looks like you need a ride. Where you headed to?" In the back, three children dressed in sports clothes battled over a handheld game.

"Duncan," I said, taking a wild guess at her destination.

"Perfect." She said, waving me in. "Now come on. You need to call someone?"

"No, thank you. Just need a ride to the Pub."

"Alrighty, then." She pulled out, yelling at the children in the back to behave themselves. I smiled quietly at their antics. They were all so innocent, so full of life, so full of breath.

My breathing hitched when I thought that. No. I told myself. But I could hear the littlest one in the back, her gasps made my eyes roll back into my head.

"Sir, are you alright?" The brunette leaned towards me, her eyes filled with concern. Her breath tickled my cheek. No. But it was just a small whisper now, fading even further. I couldn't help myself.

.......

I took all of their breath. Every single lungful I claimed for my own. It would be harder to cover my tracks now, not that I cared. For in stealing their breath, I had thrown the rest of me to hell. I was gone now, an empty shell of insatiable need.

I was desire without sanity.

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Winner of AnaChristina's December Flash Fiction Contest: Another Point of View
http://www.protagonize.com/group/flash-fiction/topic/705

With the theatrical debut of "the Lovely Bones" I have recently been on a real Alice Sebold kick. Her voice had been running through my head, in particular a quote she said at a university when asked why she wrote about such extreme violence.
(paraphrased)
"We can not divide ourselves into those who horrible things have occurred and those they have not... We get in trouble when we separate people who've experienced it from those who haven't"

updated Jan 6 '10 by wickedmirror