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The Fabulous Kill Boys

The Only Hope For Me Is You

Once Ray and Melanie were finished, she left him sleeping peacefully and went back to her own room again to change. Melanie put the blue dress she’d been wearing previously back on and smirked at the actual finger bruises around her throat, there’d be no need to do them with make-up this time. She would have to be careful though, if Gerard saw them, she and Ray would be in trouble.

She tiptoed down to Ray’s dungeon and opened the door as quietly as possible but Mikey still heard it. Mikey lifted his head and grunted, wincing a little when he shifted in the torture chair, forcing the spikes to cut him again.

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry about before Mikey, and for lying to you. Gerard & Ray... they make me be that way… I… I told you what happens when I don’t do what they say.”

Melanie started unstrapping Mikey from the chair and helped him to his feet, disguising the smirk on her face as a grimace at the state of the back of his arms, knowing that it was what his back, legs and ass would also look like. She helped Mikey remove the vices from his hands and frowned at the bruises across his knuckles.

“Come on, I’ll clean you up. Don’t want any of the cuts to get infected or anything.”

Surprised by her sudden gentleness Mikey let Melanie lead him slowly across the hall, each step was agony and all the while he was unaware that she was merely taking him into her dungeon. Once inside, she helped him sit on the edge of the plush looking four-poster bed in the centre of the room.

“What’s this room used for, Melanie? It looks um…it looks like a sex dungeon.”

Melanie didn’t answer but just smiled nervously, turning her back on him and busying herself with getting the equipment she needed to clean him up. She made sure that Mikey didn’t hear when she locked the door, sliding the bolt across and pocketing the key, just in case he got any ideas about escaping. Melanie returned to Mikey’s side and placed a small bowl of warm water and a bottle of iodine on the table beside the bed and stood between his legs. Mikey leant back on his elbows and tried to keep the sounds of pain inside as Melanie cleaned the cuts and blood from his face.

“You’re going to help me get out of here now, right Melanie?”

He asked her quietly when she was finished cleaning his face and Melanie started laughing, nervously and quietly to begin with but it turned into a loud cackle as she swung a fist towards Mikey’s face.

“Of course not! Jesus, you really are as stupid as you look aren’t you?”

Melanie punched him again and then grabbed a handful of Mikey’s hair and licked his cheek where she’d cut him open with her ring. Keeping her grip on his hair, Melanie straddled Mikey and knocked him off balance, settling herself in his lap.

“You’re pretty though, I can see why my boyfriend wanted to fuck you.”

Still weak from his treatment from Ray in the chair and with his hands bruised and swollen from the vices Mikey’s attempt at getting Melanie off him was feeble and she just smiled, pulling a small knife from the pocket of her dress and holding it against his throat.

“I’d stop squirming so much if I were you, baby cakes. This blade is quite sharp and I have it resting very close to your carotid artery. I don’t want to slip and accidentally kill you, well, not yet anyway, Ray won’t like it if I do that without him here, neither will Gee.”

“Why are you doing this, Melanie?”

“Well, if even your own brother wants you dead, how are you so surprised about me?”

Mikey blocked out the comment; he was sure that Melanie just being cruel. He didn’t want to believe that Gerard hated him enough to want him dead. As much as he himself hated his brother, there was never any intent to hurt him, let alone kill him. He would have to be a psychopath to want that. He paled as he thought about Ray and Melanie torturing him for pleasure and at the very least, Gerard was allowing it. He clung to the idea that there was a reason for that. There had to be. Perhaps they had threatened Gerard? He was desperate for the reason not to be that his brother was a psychopath.

“Ray, I understand, he wants me to suffer for rejecting him,” he pressed. “But why do you want to hurt me? Shouldn’t you want to hurt Ray for almost cheating on you with me?”

Melanie flinched a little, slicing across Mikey’s collarbone before forcing the blade back against his throat.

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about and you don’t know anything about me and Ray!”

Mikey’s eyes widened in surprise at her sudden outburst; he had hit a nerve, but he felt the jab in his arm from Melanie’s tranquilliser ring and knew that it had got him nowhere but back into unconsciousness. All he could do was hope that whatever thoughts his comment had brought up for her, that he wouldn’t be the one to pay for them.

Breathing heavily to calm herself, Melanie waited for him to pass out before chaining him spreadeagled to the bed. Needing to refocus herself once Mikey was safely chained up again and not going anywhere, Melanie headed upstairs to get a drink and as far away from Mikey as she could before she lost her temper completely and killed him.


Ray was still in bed when Melanie got upstairs and with a determined smile she headed into his bedroom, climbed on top of and started kissing him. There wasn’t anything you could point out as being different, but there was a definite sense of aggression in her kisses; even Melanie knew she was trying to prove a point, if not to Mikey then at least to herself.

“Um, Melanie, honey, what are you doing?” Ray asked sleepily as he woke.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Melanie tried to kiss Ray again but he held her back and sat up, pushing her aside and got out of bed.

“I’m not in the mood, Mel, and Gee is home, what if he comes in and catches us?”

“I don’t give a fuck, screw Gee, I’ll deal with him if it happens.”

Melanie was being petulant and she knew it, but Mikey’s words got to her. Was he right? Shouldn’t she be pissed at Ray for trying to get with Mikey in the first place? Upon seeing the look on her face Ray sighed and ran a hand through his hair but kissed Melanie anyway to placate her but she pushed him away.

“No, it’s too late now, you’re not in the mood, you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be such a fucking child, Melanie.”

Ray chided and Melanie furrowed her eyebrows as she pushed passed Ray and stormed down to the kitchen.

“I am NOT a fucking child, Ray! I just don’t understand why you were so angry that Mikey turned you down. Am I not enough for you anymore? Is that it?”

Ray looked horrified at the implication and crowded Melanie up against the fridge, one hand rested on her hip, and tipped her face up with the other. He noted that she’d changed back into the blue dress and had blood under her fingernails. She’d been with Mikey, he must have said something to set her off.

“That is not what this is and you know it. Melanie, I love you. But I told you, I’m not going to stand for being turned down just because I know Gee. That’s all this is, I promise.”

“Then why aren’t you angry with Gee?” Melanie snapped. “This is more his fault than anything, isn’t it?”

Ray scowled and looked away, still holding her firmly.

“Well?” she pressed aggressively, demanding an explanation.

“You really want to know?” he sighed. “All right, I am angry at Gee! Too often I get turned down because of his pretty face and I find someone who’s actually interested in me and I get turned down again just because I know Gee! Do you understand how frustrating that is? But, I can’t be angry with Gee, can I? We have a business, there has to be absolute trust. Besides, he’s letting me kill his brother, Mel. How can I be angry with him?”

Melanie sighed, she knew that she was in the wrong but when Ray called her a child it set her off. It didn’t help that she had Mikey’s words playing in her mind either, he was going to suffer for what he said.

“I’m sorry, Ray, I love you too. It was just something that Mikey said and it put doubt in my head. There’s something about him that seems to be able to press all our buttons.”

“It’s called innocence, honey. He has bucket loads of it. In other circumstances it would be adorable.”

“Hmm, maybe, but don’t worry, I’m going to make him pay for it.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment, my love. Go, have fun, just don’t kill him yet.”

Ray kissed Melanie’s forehead and gave her a little push towards the basement and her dungeon. Smiling in happy anticipation, she practically skipped downstairs.


Mikey was still unconscious when Melanie got back downstairs and she smirked happily to herself as it gave her time to set up everything she needed to torture him with. Some twenty gauge needles, paraben wax candles, her favourite leather whip and a scalpel. Mikey still wasn’t awake when Melanie was finished setting up and she huffed impatiently. Unlike Ray, Melanie wasn’t very patient when it came to waiting for her victims to be conscious. A smile crept onto Melanie’s face as she remembered something she owned that would assist her with getting Mikey to wake up and she retrieved it from a drawer. Securing the collar tightly around Mikey’s neck, Melanie straddled him and bit her lip, slowly counting to five in her head and then pushed the button on the remote control, delivering an electric shock that quickly Mikey into consciousness.

“Nap time is over Mikey, it’s play time now.”

The first things that Mikey became aware of were the chains holding him to the bed followed closely by something fastened tightly around his neck. Every time he woke up, or was even disturbed as he had been earlier, he was dragged back to the terrible reality of the situation. Having already been told that Gee wanted him dead, he had felt lost and alone. The only consolation he felt was that he knew Frank would have contacted the police by now.

Of course, he was unaware that Gerard had seen to it that no police were involved at all. Mikey was truly alone.

“What…what are you going to do to me? Did you…am I wearing a dog collar?”

Mikey struggled against his restraints and tried to pull free and Melanie just smiled mischievously at him and waited for him to stop struggling and look at her.

“Yes, it’s a training collar. The voltage I used to wake you up? It’s the lowest, I can make it hurt more if I want too. Are you going to be a good boy for me Little Way?”

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do to me?”

Instead of answering, Melanie shocked Mikey again, giggling at the pained gasp that slipped past his lips. Melanie tucked the remote control into her pocket and pulled her knife back out, holding it once again up against Mikey’s throat. She leaned over him, supporting herself with her free hand and leant down so she could talk in his ear. Mikey tried to turn away from Melanie put she pushed the knife harder against his throat so if he moved, he’d cut himself; he had no choice but to stay still.

“Are you familiar with the concept ‘forewarned is forearmed’ Little Way?”


Mikey managed to stutter out and cringed as he felt Melanie smile against his neck and then softly kissed him there.

“Well then, you’ll know why I’m not going to tell you what I’m planning on doing to you. I hope you aren’t too attached to this shirt, baby cakes.”

Melanie told him and Mikey raised a questioning eyebrow and squirmed when she ran her hands lightly up and down his sides.

“It’s currently in the way and I really don’t want to have to untie you to get it off of you. Now hold still, I don’t want to cut you… well, not yet anyway.”

Smiling as she did so, Melanie used the knife to slice Mikey’s shirt down the centre and pushed it off of him the rest of the way, exposing his pretty, pale chest and traced his sternum with her tongue.

“You don’t really look much like your brother, Mikey, similar eyes and bone structure. You’re prettier than Gee though. But, unlike you my dear, sweet, innocent Little Way, Gee gets off on it when I beat him up. Pathetic, isn’t it? Enough talk, I think it’s time we had some fun, so much of you is exposed right now though, I have no idea where I’m going to start! So much unmarked skin to play with. Let’s see if I can’t make you scream, make you beg me to stop.”

“I’m sure you’re no worse than Ray, sweetie, so do your worst.”

Mikey stated defiantly and Melanie just laughed, sending another shock through Mikey’s system as she did so.

“You’re all so fucking stupid. The last guy Ray, Gee and I dealt with said the same thing to me just before I carved my name into his chest with a scalpel. Ray learned half of the things he does from me, and practises other things on me so I can tell him how to do it better. Remember when I told you that Ray was the one to watch out for?”

Mikey nodded, the realisation that he was completely and utterly screwed beginning to creep onto his face.

“The one to watch out for is me. We all love what we do but I’m the worst of the three of us, I teach Ray torture techniques and I encourage Gee in his murderous rages.”

“But… why? Why do you enjoy it so much?”

Melanie didn’t answer but simply picked up one of the candles she had on the table and lit it and Mikey raised an eyebrow questioningly. Slowly starting to drip the wax on Mikey’s chest in small circles around his nipples, Melanie furrowed her eyebrows; from the way he bit his lip and his eyes were fluttering he seemed to be enjoying what she was doing. The thought was confirmed when Melanie felt him growing hard beneath her.

“Or maybe I’m wrong, maybe you do get off on it when I hurt you, too. Is that what’s happening here? I can feel that you’re hard from this, baby cakes.”

Melanie blew the candle out and waited for Mikey to answer her, watching the way his eyes darted nervously around the room until they settled on the door.

“What if,” Mikey swallowed hard. “What if I joined you too? Like you did?”

Melanie smiled sweetly, playing along for now. “You’d do that?”

“Y…yeah.” Mikey nodded; the movements quick but slight. “It’d be good to work with Gerard.” He lied. “Sort of a family business?” He shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe you could teach me too?”

Melanie smiled at him coyly, resting her weight on her hands either side of Mikey’s head and kissed him. It took him a second to get over the shock but Mikey kissed her back, hoping it would help convince Melanie to let him go.

Please believe me! Please believe me! Just long enough for me to escape.

“You want to join us?” Melanie asked as she pulled away from his lips and trailed her fingers across Mikey’s jaw and up his neck, digging her fingernails into his skin and pulling upwards as they caught on his jaw, pulling his head until their eyes met.

“And after some of the things you’ve said to us, am I supposed to believe you? Do you think I’m so stupid that I can’t see through your adorable attempt to escape?” She snapped, once again forcing his head down angrily.

“Well! Can you blame me?” He shouted in frustration, his brow creased.

“Oh, I can blame you, Little Way.” She sneered. “But I’ll do more than that!”

The coldness of Melanie’s voice in those last six words made Mikey physically shudder and he slumped against the bed in defeat.


The Fabulous Kill Boys had two types of client and the only distinction they had was how they ended up. Client Type One hired them and Client Type Two usually ended up severely disfigured, dead or usually both. But how they handled either client before accepting a commission was almost exactly the same. The Three Rs – Research, reconnaissance and remuneration. Essential in answering the basic questions of: Who are they? Are they who they say they are? Who do they know? What is their routine? Can they pay? To Gerard, Ray and Melanie, why someone wanted a job done was usually irrelevant. The only time it became an issue was if it would if it infringed on any mob activity. None of them would touch a client if it meant attracting that sort of attention.

The only difference to the Three Rs in respect of Client Type Two, was that remuneration would be replaced with resistance. In effect, what were they capable of? Did they carry a weapon? Perhaps a skilled fighter? In short, nothing was left to chance.

Even client contact was minimal and, from their perspective at least, anonymous. The method of contact was discreet and passed on by word of mouth in the seamier areas of Belleville. A potential client would place an advertisement in the local newspaper requesting the services of Belleville Antiques in the valuation of a particular item of furniture or art. The item corresponded to the type of job required. Leaving contact details would allow the Fabulous Kill Boys to approach without the client being aware of them. In the rare event of a refusal, a reply would be posted in the newspaper stating that Belleville Antiques had no expertise in that area and they should seek help from somewhere else.

This evening, Gerard was seated in a high-backed leather bench in a comfortable booth, located at the far corner of the exclusive Circe Burlesque Club. There weren’t many burlesque clubs in Belleville, but at least this one had some class. Well, Gerard smiled to himself as he lit a cigarette, it was clean and had far fewer fights breaking out than the others. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this, but he was there to contact a client.

Gerard looked up as a shadow fell across him, which even in the already dim light was noticeable. Looking up, he saw a waitress wearing a red and black lacy basque, matching thong and fishnets sporting an obviously plastic smile and trying hard not to look bored.

“What can I get you, sir?” she drawled.

“Umm,” Gerard glanced quickly through the cocktail menu. “A peach and lime daiquiri, please?” he replied, flashing a bright smile at her.

A combination of his polite request and his sexy smile brought a genuine look of delight to the waitress’s eyes and instantly, he fake smile broadened into a toothy grin.

“Yes, sir,” she almost giggled as she headed for the bar.

Gerard settled back into the seat. He knew that the waitresses in these sorts of clubs were often groped and treated poorly in other ways. He also knew he was handsome and that his flirty smile and basic human kindness had probably just made her night. He considered the incongruity of his attitude when compared to his job. He knew that if the client were to pay him to kill this woman, he would cheerfully do just that, but otherwise he would respect her. Some might call him a psychopath and perhaps he was? He didn’t care. He gave a small self-deprecating laugh; not caring was probably proof in itself.

This was the fourth time he had seen the client. The first three occasions where to take photographs, follow, discover his routine, his job, his interests and acquaintances. Ray, who was much better with computer hacking, had already established his ability to pay. It was time to make contact.

As the waitress returned with his daiquiri, Gerard had already spotted his client seated at another table.

“Thanks,” he beamed again, slipping a twenty into her hand.

“Oh, you want the cheque?” she asked with surprise.

“No, that’s for you. I want you to give him a message,” he added pointing to a tall slim man with dark hair.

“What’s the message?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head.

“Please tell him that if he wants to discuss his painting, he should join me here.”

“Oh, he’s an artist?” she sounded impressed.

“Antiques,” Gerard shrugged. “I may be in the market.”

“Well, sweetie,” she replied tucking the bill into the left cup of her basque, “if you’re in the market for anything else, I get off at two.”

Gerard smirked. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

Gerard watched chuckling quietly as she walked away with an exaggerated swing of her hips. Within moments, the man had turned in his seat and was hovering hesitantly half risen from his seat as Gerard merely stared, giving nothing away.

Finally looking down and raising his drink, Gerard waited, certain that the young man was on his way.

“Hi, I’m Brendon,” he introduced himself.

“I know,” Gerard replied, almost brusquely. “Sit down.”

Sliding into the booth, Brendon stared expectantly at Gerard.

“Watch the show, not me. You’re drawing attention.”

“Sorry,” Brendon muttered as he turned his eyes back to the stage.

An awkward silence followed as Gerard allowed his client to stew uncomfortably; he was in no hurry to rescue him. He was enjoying both his drink and the show.

“You like those?” Brendon finally broke the silence.

“What? Women?” Gerard raised an eyebrow.

“No!” Brendon scowled at what he viewed was him deliberately being misunderstood. “Cocktails.”

“What can I get you, sir?” the same waitress asked Brendon.

“We’ll have two more of these, please,” Gerard answered for him, indicating his daiquiri.

“No, I don’t like all that fruit and sparkler crap they put in the top.”

“Well, you can have one without, sir, but it’s better if you do,” she replied with some surprise.

“Two, with everything, please, Jennifer” Gerard insisted, handing her another twenty and noting her name tag.

“Yes, sir,” she practically bobbed before returning to the bar.

“What was that in aid of?” Brendon snapped.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Brendon grumbled.

“I’m the one taking the risks here, not you. Now spill.”

“I work in a hospital…”

“I know all about you. I don’t need your life story, just a name,” Gerard replied harshly still not taking his eyes off the show.

“His name’s Ryan.”

“Okay, leave it with me.”

“Oh, come on! How can you possibly…”

“Keep your voice down,” Gerard interjected angrily.

“You don’t even know his last name,” Brendon whispered.

Gerard paused as the drinks arrived and the waitress offered him another flirty smile.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he beamed, pausing until she walked away. “You only know one Ryan and certainly only one who knows about your little scam.”

Brendon choked on the sip of daiquiri and tried to cough quietly as Gerard turned a dark glare at him.

“If we accept, the cost will be dependent on what services you require.”

“What’s on offer?” Brendon sounded interested.

“You tell me what you want and that’s what’s on offer.”

“I want him to disappear.”

“Just dead or complete obliteration?” Gerard took a casual sip of his drink, noting the uneasy expression on the young man’s face.

“What’s the difference?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“In price,” Brendon choked out. “I’m not a rich man.”

Gerard chuckled mirthlessly.

“Yes, you are; we already checked. You can pay our fees.”

Brendon turned his mouth into an angry scowl at the imbalance of knowledge and power that Gerard held.

“Dead, ten for the first hour, plus one for each hour over. Out of state body dump, five. Obliteration, starts at thirty.”


“Thousand,” Gerard sneered. “Don’t get cheap with me Brendon, my time is valuable. I’ve already spent nine hours making sure you’re legit.”

“I’m not paying for that!”

“If you raise your voice one more time, you will not be leaving this booth. Do you understand me?”

“You wouldn’t,” Brendon gasped. “Not in here. The waitress can identify you.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d leave witnesses?”

“B-but you’re so friendly with…”

“Do we understand each other?” Gerard asked pressing the sharp-bladed hunting knife into Brendon’s side. “At the moment you haven’t hired me, but you’ve seen me, so you’re a threat. I have no qualms about ending your life, here or anywhere else. Or anyone else’s for that matter. What do you want?”

“Just dead,” Brendon whispered, his face pale. “Don’t care how.”

“Sixteen. Payment in cash, up front. I’ll be in touch in three days,” Gerard replied downing his drink. “Cover this,” he indicated the glasses as he rose to leave. “And don’t be cheap with the tip.”

Jennifer noticed him heading toward the door and hurried over.

“Sir?” she called.

“I’m sorry,” he kissed her cheek, “I have somewhere I need to be. My friend will pick up the cheque. Tell him I expect him to give you a fifty as a tip and that I’ll find out if he doesn’t.”

“He’s not your friend, is he?” she noted.

“He’s got no manners,” he raised and kissed her hand, pressing a fifty into it and folding her fingers around the bill. “And he’s not good enough for you.”

Lowering her hand, Gerard pulled on his jacket and headed for the door; he had another client to see. A Type Two client.


Gerard checked his watch, it was eleven-twenty. He had watched this man more than a dozen times and he was never earlier than eleven-thirty, but he wasn’t about to take anything for granted. If, for any reason, he was early he didn’t want to miss him. He had broken his own rule for this man; he had listened to the woman’s story. She had been so upset, he hadn’t been able to ask her not to. This man had broken her heart, no, he had jumped, even danced on her heart. There was no regret, only amusement on his part. They had argued. Perhaps they even hated each other? Maybe he had seen it as his right? Gerard didn’t know all the details, neither did he care that he had only heard one side of the story. He had been paid and that was enough for him. But what he had heard had affected him deeply. If it was only partly true it was still despicable. She had claimed he had cheated on her and she seemed genuinely distraught. It reminded him of the situation with Mikey when Pete had cheated on him – twice. It made him angry – beyond angry, actually. She had paid only for a basic hit, but the rage he felt bubbling inside him was driving him further already.

As the man rounded the corner, obviously the worse for a few drinks, Gerard’s rage was intensifying. Stepping out of the shadows, he headed, lurching, staggering in faked drunkenness towards his prey.

“Hey!” he waved his arm lazily toward the intoxicated blond man. “Bob!”

Bob looked up, barely able to see in the dim light – somehow, many of the street lights seemed to be broken.

“Who is it?” he slurred.

“Bob!” Gerard threw an arm around his shoulders, gently steering the taller man. “S’good to see you, man!”

Bob screwed up his eyes and stared in confusion at Gerard, not recognising him.

“Do I know you?”

“Of course you do!” Gerard faked a hiccup, intentionally staggering and pushing Bob toward a dark alley in the process.

“Okay,” Bob smiled, accepting the response. “But who are you?”

Gerard merely giggled as he continued to steer Bob into the alley.

“I’m not going this way,” he finally announced.

“Yes you are,” Gerard replied, pressing his hunting knife against Bob’s abdomen.

“Dude!” Bob frowned, trying to clear his head. “What the hell?”

Dragged the last few feet into the pitch-black alley, Bob felt suddenly alert as the knife was pressed firmly against his throat.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Gerard sneered as he saw Bob’s panicked expression.

“T-take what you like,” Bob stammered, his bright blue eyes fixed on Gerard’s cold yet mildly amused expression. “Just don’t hurt me, please.”

“That’s going to be difficult, Bob. You see, I’ve been paid by Diana to take your life.”

Suddenly struggling despite the knife, Bob’s eyes opened wide in terror as instead of panicking or releasing him, Gerard merely pushed forward, his maniacal grin widening as the razor-sharp knife sunk easily into Bob’s throat. Grabbing his neck, almost as if to hold in the blood, Bob stared in shock and terror as he felt his life slipping away from him, gasping for air through a fatally damaged trachea.

Gerard’s eyes glazed in fury and he estimated that he had roughly two minutes before Bob lost consciousness from exsanguination or asphyxiation. Pulling the knife back, he slashed a large X across Bob’s abdomen, spilling his viscera onto the paving below. Bob, unable to cry out, managed little more than a pained gurgle as he witnessed his intestines falling through the gaping wound. Willing the agony and blood loss to claim him, Bob sagged in Gerard’s grip hoping he could feign death and somehow escape.

Laughing, Gerard pushed him back against the wall by his neck, the blood running down his sleeves as he held him upright, severely weakened but still barely conscious. Bob tried to grab for Gerard’s hand, but there was no strength in his arms by this point and all he achieved was to get his hands and forearms slashed.

“She didn’t pay me to do this,” Gerard chuckled as, with a flick of the knife, he sliced off the fleshy part of his nose, almost down to the bone. “I just hate cheaters!”

Continuing the destruction of Bob’s face, Gerard was forced to allow the man to slide to the floor, no longer certain if he was still alive. His rage now at fever pitch, Gerard cackled as he reached for Bob’s hands, slicing the pads of his fingertips and thumbs off.

“You’ll never touch another woman. Or kiss one, either,” he added, slicing through his lips, the lower of the two hanging by the slightest strand of flesh.

Raising the knife, now livid and further enraged as the frenzied attack progressed, Gerard brought the knife down repeatedly to Bob’s chest and head, the violence of the blows crushing part of his skull. Fragments of bone and brain spattered against the wall as Gerard withdrew the knife for the last time.

Stepping back, gasping for breath as he inspected his work, his masterpiece – yes, this was art, this was his art and no two pieces were ever alike. Taking a deep, calming breath, Gerard seemed almost satisfied with his efforts. With one last surge of anger, he turned the knife to smash the hilt down onto the dead man’s mouth, shattering most of his teeth in one vicious blow.

Pulling his lips into a satisfied smirk, Gerard wiped his knife on his victim’s coat before sheathing it. Pulling off his blood-drenched jacket, Gerard wiped the sprays that had covered his hair, face and neck. He was by no means clean, but, the worst of it was gone. His car was parked at the opposite end of the alley. Certain that no one had seen or heard anything, Gerard left the scene to head home.

Already the excitement of knowing he had a session with Melanie scheduled in was building within him. He would regale her with all the gory details and she was going to be so proud of him. He imagined she would do all his favourite things. Perhaps she would even let him touch her? By the time he reached his car, his erection was already pressing hard against his pants and he was quivering with anticipation.


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