I put on my leather gloves, picked up the hunting knife, and watched as she struggled against the braided yellow ropes with which she was bound. I touched the blade to her neck, marveling at how splendid it looked against her skin.

“Why are you doing this?” she screamed, flailing about the ground, her body caked in thick layers of mud and moist leaves.

“Because of you,” I said, placing duct tape over her mouth. I slammed her face into the mud, touched her nose to mine and pinched her rosy cheeks.

I pulled back her red hair, moved the tip of the knife behind her ear, and playfully turned it over. The teeth of the serrated edge sunk gently into gristly cartilage as streams of blood washed against tearful pleadings. I held her ear between my teeth and laughed, her blood soaked hair tangled into a hopeless nest

I opened my portfolio with a faint click, reached for her ficlets, and placed the 100 printed pages on her chest. “Because of you,” I said, plunging the knife into her gut with a short swift arc.