by Son of Darkness



The blood made holding the knife difficult, it kept wanting to slip through his fingers as he cut, but he held onto it tightly and made sure not to slip and sever the wrong thing. It had been surprisingly easy, much easier than he’d thought it would be and now a warm sense of numb euphoria had settled over him and despite the cold weather and his distinct lack of any decent clothing, he felt pleasantly comfortable.

The skin cut easily, the knife slicing through it like butter, but the bone and muscle and cartilage took more work and Finn found himself getting impatient when the knife finally got lodged between the woman’s ribcage. He sighed, brushing the hair from his eyes and smearing crimson blood across his forehead, before pulling the knife forcefully from the cooling torso and placing it down on the cobbled road beside him.

He studied the wound for a moment, watching the way the now luke-warm blood continued to trickle from it, down the woman’s pale skin and drip onto the ground beneath. It was pretty and fascinating and something clicked in the back of Finn’s mind, though he couldn’t be sure what. He shuffled forward slightly, lifting one fishnet covered leg and placing it the other side of the dead woman’s hips. Once astride her, he ran his hands up her bare torso and back along the neat slice he’d made down the middle.

He inserted two fingers at first, one on each hand, feeling the soft organs around his fingers and smiling at how it warmed his hands up. He then added two more fingers, then four more, until he had a firm grip on the skin in both fists. He felt his way upwards, along the ridges of torn skin, until he could feel her ribs under his fingers and pulled. There was a loud snapping sound, it seemed to echo down the dark, empty alleyway, but Finn didn’t seem to notice as he pulled the ribcage open like a pair of marble doors.

The lungs were inside, punctured now and oozing blood. He reached in with both hands and pulled them out one at a time, placing them gently down on the ground beside the knife. Carefully, so as not to damage them further, he didn’t want to be disrespectful, after all. He reached inside and his hand closed around the woman’s still heart. It was soft and felt small in his hand, despite his petit frame and he frowned when it didn’t come away in his hand. Looking closer, he realised it was attached by tubes and sinewy tissue and released it for a moment to pick back up his knife.

He noticed, as he leaned over, that he was kneeling in a pool of the woman’s blood and the first thought to enter his head was ‘I hope it doesn’t damage my boots’.

He took hold of the knife and smiled as he picked it up, straightening back up and taking his time to carefully cut every artery attached to the heart. He’d half expected the gush to spurt out in great spurts and was a little surprised and disappointed when it didn’t. What little blood was left in it simply oozed out slowly as he picked it up and dripped lazily onto his hand and trickled down over his wrist.

He sat back and looked at it for a while, turning it over in his hands to see it from every angle. After several minutes, he was aware that his legs had started to ache and he pushed himself from the woman’s body and shuffled back along the floor to lean against the damp, brick wall.

He had no idea what had possessed him to do this. And why now, of all times? But it didn’t… disturb him like he thought it would have. He’d always been so against it, not only on principal, like a lot of people he’d met. But with every fibre of his being. It was who he was, how he was made. It was everything he’d ever been brought to believe in and fight for. But now… he wasn’t quite sure, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact… it felt good.

He looked up at the woman, lying dead, arms and legs akimbo, in the middle of the alley. She didn’t look afraid or sad. She looked happy, rested. At peace, almost and Finn wondered if maybe everyone felt this way when they died. Maybe Jack had been doing people a service. It was a cruel, cold, grey world they all lived in, Finn knew from experience, and maybe, in some part of their subconscious mind, everybody just wanted out. To be rid of it for good. And what better way to find it?

Finn smiled, propping his head up in his free hand, pressing a sticky red handprint to his cheek as he mused upon the ins and outs of life and what was waiting beyond it. A cat knocked over a garbage bin at the far end of the alley and he looked up slowly to watch it as it scampered off into the steam coming from the drain.


Finn didn’t even look round. He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position against the wall, passing the now cold heart from his right hand to his left. He heard the faint swoosh and soft shuffling against brick as the two demons moved slowly closer. He supposed they were expecting a fight of some sort.

“Oh, what have you done, little angel?” hissed Sin, gleefully.

Finn turned in their direction then, but didn’t move from his spot on the floor.

They moved closer, almost blending into the darkness as they darted with graceful speed from shadow to shadow. Finn watched them come, never moving from the floor, playing idly with the organ in his hand. The blood on his face was now dry and cracking and strands of his bright red hair clung to it and tugged at his scalp as he moved.

Both demons stopped when they were just out of arms reach and crouched down, half in the light and half out, looking at the angel for a while. It was Sin who moved forward first, dashing through the air, mere inches from the floor, to land beside the woman’s corpse. Finn could see the smile stretched wide across his face and the twisted, sadistic gleam in his eyes as they raked the length of the mutilated body.

“Did you enjoy it, Finnian?” came the soft, stirring hiss from the shadows to Finn’s right.

He turned to Malice, face expressionless apart from the hint of painful satisfaction in his eyes and nodded. “Yes,” was his honest reply. He looked back at the heart in his hands and very slowly smiled.

The two demons exchanged shaded glances and Finn didn’t try to stop them as they closed in on him.

It really had been much easier than he’d thought.


The End

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