What Evil Lurks

The hilt of the knife was warm from Dale holding it for an hour. He didn't really want to do this, but that dark side of him had to be appeased. He loved her a lot, no denying that, but the ache he felt was torture. Life would be great if he didn't have his urges to commit sins. He all ready had to live with the fact that he cheated on her. What was one more transgression?

As he sat on the couch, his mind drifted to his obsession. What would that cold steel feel like plunging into her warm flesh? What sounds would there be? Would her blood cover him or the floor more? A twisted smile came over his face. What would her last breath smell like? How would it feel on his skin? Would her blood be coppery in taste or something else for the occasion?

"Where is she?" he muttered, getting up from his seat. She worked late, yes, but it was past midnight. However, it was New York City, and traffic was bad no matter what the time was, and they did just move there. It wouldn't be the first time she had gotten lost, but with a chuckle, Dale knew it would be her last time.

He paced the living room a few times before wandering into the kitchen. He had a sizeable selection of knifes to choose from and decided he should look at his options once more. The butcher knife was a no-go to begin with. It would be nothing more then a bloody mess, and there would be no breadth the experience. The serrated knifes would be suitable, but he wanted to go with the classic smooth knife. It seemed archaic that way and it was always a little more satisfying to do things the old-fashioned way, especially in the modern world. Keeping the knife he had, Dale shuffled back to the couch in a happy stupor.

He began to reflect upon his love. Erica. Such a loving woman. The perfect girlfriend. The relationship was full of love and humor, but Dale always had the feeling that, despite her apparent happiness, she actually felt alone, perhaps empty. He knew why. Her childhood wasn't something people would have wanted. When they started dating in high school, he found out her family treated her more as a servant then a daughter, sometime even as a beating bag. Dale couldn't even remember her parents telling her that she did a good job, let alone saying they loved her. Even after she moved out, it always seemed like she couldn't get away from them. Dale had tried many times to tell her that she was a better person then they were, and it was because of them, and that she was more then any other human out there could ever be.

"I don't want to do this." Tears started to run down his face as he started to sob loudly. "She's such an angel; if I do this, she'll die thinking no one ever loved her." He saw her at her funeral, and no one was there. Her family didn't show, and he wouldn't be able to go; it was just her in a coffin, and a priest just shaking his head. "Good riddance," the priest said.

A stirring came from the back of his mind. That feeling, that unease, could only mean one thing.

He was coming back. He wanted to talk.

A good riddance indeed. Perhaps you’re too blind to notice, but she has been coming home later and later.

That evil thing. The voice that told him, hounded him, into cheating. Dale didn’t want to name the voice because that could give it more strength. Yet ever since the last incident, he could feel a need to commit sins. Somehow, some reason, he started to get these feeling that being a good person was somehow a waste.

When those feelings got strong, he came back.

Later and later, Dale, later and later. Most people can take the hint. While there was no face to the voice, Dale could feel a malevolent grin somewhere. He went to reach for his face to see if the grin was there, but on second thought, didn’t want to find out.

“Leave me alone. I didn’t ask for you.”

Nor I for you, but we have each other, dear Dale.

Dale shook his head with his hands. More tears started down his face. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?”

Not enough taint, that’s what wrong. You were too good for too long. Good people can commit the worst sins. I’m only trying to save you.

"No! No." He cried even louder, but he still heard the tumbling of the lock pins, her footsteps on the carpet. Even in his tear-blurred eyes, he could see the look on her face as she turned on the lights. It was that of concern and of confusion. Yet, even with the knife in his hand, she started to come to him, making a motion to comfort him.

"Please," he whined out, "don't come closer." Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She made one final step.

The skin made a refreshing snapping sound as the knife was buried deep into her abdomen. The flesh itself was making soft ripping noises not unlike that of fabric being torn, and her blood flowed freely. His hands became warm and sticky as he placed his one hand on the back of her head and drew it in to his wet face. Both of their tears mingled as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want to do this. I really tried to stop myself.” Weakly, he added, “I love you."

Her last few breaths were short and fast, and left much to be desired. Her death was much like a fine wine with its only defect being an unsatisfactory ending. Unable to even process a single thought, a single emotion, he ran out the door and into a rainy night.

Well, said the voice, two sins down, five to go.