He stood by the river bank with murder on his mind. It had been too long and his body was becoming restless. His blood boiled hot so that his whole body screamed, the monster inside protesting against its incarceration. He had been watching her with a desire so strong he thought it would be never-ending, and he knew the time was near. Each night he fantasised, her contorted face emblazoned in his memory as he hacked, strangled and beat his way to ecstasy; his actions the shields against insanity. The madness of his monster needed to be fed.
As she washed the blood from her hands, she finally realised the full extent of what she had done. She regarded his body as it lay limp on top of the now blood soaked wooden table and dared it to move. But it didn’t, couldn’t. The now sliced open chest was still. She had finally done it, and now it was over. She had told him often enough that he would be hers, had promised time and time again, though he had never believed it. But as she watched his heart lying still, hers at last, she smiled, victorious.