Unlike last night, the water ran clear, but his imagination filled in the color that was now missing. The woman’s blood and his shaking hands had combined with the water to create ribbons of pink liquid and splashes of crimson against the dingy white bowl. The woman… As soon as he’d killed her, he’d been flooded by a sensation so foreign he almost didn’t recognize it. Power. And pleasure. Emotional and physical. So much so that he’d barely had to touch himself before he’d had the most powerful orgasm of his life. Hours had passed. Hours to dispose of her body. Smartly. Fastidiously. Dramatically. But the rush of power still ran gloriously through his veins. Raising a steady hand, he ran his fingers over his neck and face, feeling the cobbled texture underneath the dark purple stains.
