Ending You

You should have never spoke to me in that fashion even when I called you a Fucker for throwing me through the coffee table. I had never seen a bruise grow that big and that black so quickly. It was probably too much for me to expect gentleness from someone with such rough hands and a dark voice whispering in your ear all the time. I wanted to be a different voice but you held be down while I squirmed.

When I licked your skin you tasted like an orgasm; sticky, sweet and violent. I knew I shouldn't have seen you again but something kept bringing me back here. Maybe my own dark voice was getting louder. Maybe I wore my bruises like badges of what I could go through and still be standing. Still be alive.

When I sunk that knife into your chest and you started to gasp for air, that's when I understood what had to happen. I knew then that I was here to stop you from hurting anybody else. I was here to stop you. When I twisted the blade and you screamed I heard all the voices of all the women you hurt scream too. I quieted them with your blood running down my legs, with your lungs filling up with dark fluid and your voice slowly dieing away.

I came here to be something rougher. I came here to be right. I came here to end you and the whispers of a thousand sad female cries filled up my ears and drove me on. The night folded me up and pulled me away as you leaked onto the floor to never be heard from again.

For a moment, all the world was quiet and no one knew what to say.