She looked out the windows with a heavy sigh. This was usually the best part of her process. The energy usually flowed. She loved the give and take, the back and forth... but something was missing lately. It didn't seem to matter how long she waited between projects. Whether she chose someone tall or short, handsome or ugly, mean or kind. She'd tried everything. She was an artist, after all.
She let out another sigh, ignoring the noises behind her. Her hand gripped the red curtain as the noises increased. Regardless of if she was in the mood, she was going to HAVE to finish this project. This one last project.
She felt a sense of relief at that thought. This could be her last time. She didn't have to ever do it again. She'd made enough money to support herself if she was careful. It would take some penny pinching, but she knew how to do that.
The thought of retiring ignited a small flame inside of her. A new sense of purpose. Just finish this one last masterpiece. She could make it her best one ever.
Turning from the window, the soft light framed her like an old Renaissance painting. The man in the bed stilled, watching her as she walked towards him. In spite of everything else, even he couldn't ignore her beauty.
She pulled out her favorite knife. It was long, sharp enough to slice through just about anything. The handle carved with ancient symbols.
The man on the bed screamed through the gag, tugging frantically at the restraints that held him tight.
She leaned on the edge of the bed, bringing the knife down slowly. Running the dull edge of the blade across his skin, trying to decide where to start on her next masterpiece.
It was too bad that he wouldn't be alive to see the end result, she thought.
Thanks to @mariannewest for the prompt. I really needed the distraction! <3
You can read more of my short stories in A Taste of Darkness
Or buy my full length, psychological thriller 365 Marks on the Wall
