I smiled and raised the knife, and I laid its side on her shoulder, raised it at a slight angle and slide it back and forth along her arm in a caress. She flinched when I brought it back to her shoulder and touched it to her collar bone. I stopped, and let it rest on her collar on its edge. I can feel her stop breathing, and I can taste her fear in the air. I slide the blade, slicing her skin at the edge of her neck, away from the main arteries and veins. As her blood starts to pool in the little hollow between her collar and her neck, I lower the knife to my side and watch her.
Her fear was palpable, and I could feel the excitement and life flowing through me as I watched her blood pool. I transfer my focus to her face, more specifically her eyes. I could see the fear and sadness there, and I could see the confusion as well. She didn’t understand what I was doing, and was too scared to think properly. I examined her face and that she was wearing make-up, trying to impress the people around her. She should not have had to wear that lie, no one should. They should be accepted without needing to lie about who they were.