I watched her walk toward me with hatred in her eyes. She held a knife before her, sunlight flashing off the blade. She stopped a foot away, the knife six inches from my navel.
‘Love me’, she said.
With an outburst of longing, I tore the clothes from her body, leaving her naked as a new moon. I followed the pattern of scars on her skin, reliving my past and reading my destiny.
‘Take me’, she said.
I fell upon her with savage joy, an exultant cry upon my lips. She lay there cold and lifeless, the knife buried in her breast. I pulled it out, inch by inch, slowly savouring the moment. She rose and fell with me, united in life and death. We parted.
As I lay there, spent, a hand gently caressed my brow. I looked up into those hate filled eyes. Screaming with ecstatic pain, I felt the six inch blade burrow its way inside my stomach. We rose and fell, mimicking my lust.
Our blood intermingled, forming a coagulating pool of red. Flies gathered round our wounds as we undulated, lives and limbs inexorably entwined.
I forced her face down into the pool, taking her again. With a dying gasp, I erupted into her for the last time, falling into a stream of blood. I looked into her eyes for the final time. She spoke.
‘I love you, father’.