It’s odd the way blood will splash upward once it’s pulled violently out of the flesh. Over and over, each time a knife is expertly plunged in and out, spraying and sticking to every surface it touches. It reminds him of rain. The thick, slightly painful kind of rain that stings your skin when it pours from the sky and slabbers in puddles, like a dance of jumping beans. The biggest difference, he’s decided, is that fresh splattering blood is hot as opposed to rain, when even on scorching days it still holds a bit of a chill. Blood is different, especially when it squirts onto the more sensitive parts of his face, like his lips and eyelids.
The victim no longer wiggles in his restraints or cries and tries to scream for help through the muffled coverings on his mouth. All that’s left is the
