Gazing down at the helpless woman, Jim’s heart raced to feed off the adrenaline now coursing through his body. An impish grin flashed from his lips, like that of a demented child who had just realized he would get away with ‘it’ again.
The knife, a razor, really, hovered above the motionless woman, clenched with white knuckle force.
“Bet you would love me now.” A dark voice now resonated in Jim’s skull.
A successful professional, Jim was considered a loner…and somewhat of a misfit among his colleagues. Being more of an introvert, his personality would clash more than once within his profession of choice. He could care less of what others thought…as long as he could yield a knife, that is.
The power…oh the lust driven power he felt whenever he had the good fortune to find himself looking down at his knife hovering just inches from the face of a woman he barely knew.
“I am your savior now…you righteous bitch.” Jim murmured to himself.
As a child, Jim seemed to be a little ‘off’, yet very intelligent. A growing fascination with cutting devices preoccupied most of Jim’s time. An incident with the neighbor’s daughter…and a razor…that occurred when he was only 12, would lead to four years of therapy.
At the age of 17, Jim was relegated to the ‘nerd’ crowd in High School. Women would scoff at him when asked if they would go out on a date. This would only infuriate Jim, and as he sunk deeper into himself, he vowed that one day…he would be worshiped by all the ladies. They would beg…to him.
“I’m gonna cut you now, and your gonna love me for it.” Jim’s mind was rambling.
…not even the act of sex with his wife compared to the exhilaration Jim felt as he sliced into a womans face.
While in college, Jim’s humiliation would find no solace. Bullied by the ‘Jocks’, taken advantage by the ‘Nerds’, and belittled by women, he vowed one day they would all gaze up at his knife and pray to him.
As the razors edge cut into the young womans face, a trail of crimson red flowed under Jim’s hand. A feeling of euphoria overtook his soul like no other material thing he owned could. Nothing compared to the feelings of a woman under his razor. Speeding in his Ferrari, sailing his yacht, not even the act of sex with his wife compared to the exhilaration Jim felt as he sliced into a womans face.
As Jim’s blood stained hands finished the multitude of cuts, he smiled wildly, and shouted…PERFECTION!
As he laid the blood stained razor on a stainless tray, the others in the room congratulated Jim on another successful facelift.
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