Soaked Through

Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, I began
keeping a sharp eye on the man sitting across from me.
He was in his late 40's, but looked 60 or more. Hair was
graying and greasy. It was apparent he hadn't had a
shower in days, although his clothes appeared clean. His
thin lips and yellow teeth were signs of a lifetime of
smoking, which will more than likely kill him soon. He
had one pale gray eye left, which added to the wasteful
look of his whole outer appearance, the other eye was
scarred shut from a wound his wife had given him in self-
defense he had told me. His entire outlook was dim and
sorrowful, but I had no pity for him, he would be put out
of his misery soon enough.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies." His
question it did not answer I know, but it got the point
across plain and simple I'm sure.

Patrick, as he said his name was, finished telling me his
life story just minutes before and I had listened to it all,
taking it all in, but remained uninterested. Apparently his
father beat and molested him as a child and his mother
was an alcoholic. Nothing special, I thought, you hear
those type of stories daily. Well, despite the fact he had a
bad childhood he did well in school, staying late to avoid
going home, not that I blame him. Nonetheless, he
graduated from high school, but failed to find a job he
liked and found college pointless. So he married his high
school sweetheart, but history repeated itself and the
marriage became abusive. Fifteen years later Pat said he
let her leave, but not before she scarred his eye. Now he
stays in a one-room apartment, living off unemployment
checks.

His one eye glanced at me when I spoke then darted away
as the waitress neared our table. Nancy, her nametagread,
she looked young, 19 or 20, maybe. She also looked as
though she was about 4 months pregnant, but I wasn't
sure. She placed the bowl of soup in front of Pat, his 5th
bowl in three hours. That's right, we've been sitting here
for three hours straight. After he finished each bowl he
placed it on the farthest end of the table to his right,
causing poor Nancy to lean over in front of him in order
to get it. This, of course, was to Pat's delight for Nancy's
rather large breasts overflowed over the top of her
uniform. I also noticed that a few minutes after Nancy
took each bowl away, Pat would stiffly get out of his seat
and take off for the bathroom, no doubt in my mind what
he was doing in there either, for he always came back
with a smile spread across his face.

All this time, while I listened to him talk or watched him
smoke cigarette after cigarette as he slurped at his soup, I
analyzed his character and came to the conclusion he was
a good waste of human flesh.

After Nancy left for the fifth time and somehow figured
he wasn't going to go to the bathroom this time, I
continued with my 'story', we'll call it.

"Have you ever killed a man and then have his blood soak
into your hand?" As I said this, my right hand began to
tremble under the table.

Pat looked up from his soup, which he had already started
inhaling, his gray eye scanned my face then he shook his
head and went back to his soup.

"Well," I continued, watching the hot liquid slip down his
lip to his chin and drip back into the bowl. "I was 16
when I killed my step-dad, purely in self defense of
course." He looked up at me from under his thin eyebrow
without stopping his soup slurping. "You see, he had
knocked out my mother cold, first time he ever laid a
hand on her too, which meant it would also be the last
time. Long story short, I rushed into the kitchen and
found the bastard standing over her. When he turned to
me I quickly grabbed a knife off the windowsill. That's
when he came after me, I twisted my wrist around and
stabbed him through the heart. His body went limp and
collapsed on mine, his warm blood spilled out onto my
hand." I brought both my hands up and folded them in
front of me, still watching him eat his soup.

With the pause he stopped and looked up at me,obviously
interested now. "And then?"

"That's when I changed. His blooded soaked into my
hand, my skin." I leaned in close, looking intently into his
one eye and lowered my voice. "It poisoned me, forcing
me to kill again and again." I smile as I saw fear cross his
face.

"You lie." His voice was on the edge of the plain dislike
and fear.

I ignored his comment and went on. "I single out the
worthless pieces of shits like you. Ones who have no
business walking among the normality's of the average
person. Ones who did not entirely choose the path their
life took." My right hand wandered to the yet untouched
knife that lay on the neatly folded napkin with the fork
and spoon. With enough forced and the right spot any
knife would do the job at hand.

He noticed the smooth movement of my hand towards the
knife and the panic in his eye flashed. He pushed his now
half-full bowl of soup towards me, maybe in some sort of
defense, I'm not sure. "You're not going to kill me, are
you?"

I smiled, a small smile, as my hand found the knife it was
seeking. It felt cool and so right against my palm, just like
a pair of gloves that fit so perfectly. "Oh no, I'm not
going to kill you," I tried to keep my voice soft and
soothing, "I'm merely giving you another chance." Before
he even had time to blink I lunged forward and let my
hand find its mark on its own. The knife slid through his
ribs and into his heart with ease. The dark red, thick liquid
started leaking out onto my fingers and hand, causing the
excitement in my body to grow. I glanced at the
expression on Pat's face, his mouth gaped open and his
one gray eye gazed blindly at me, my body shuddered
with evil pleasure. I pulled myself away from his limp
body, the stickiness of his blood heavy on my hand and
straightened my clothes out as best I could with my left
hand.

I walked out of the restaurant calm and cool as if nothing
had happened. I didn't look back, but I'm sure most
everyone was in a panic and the cops would be on their
way. I turned down a narrow ally way on my right and
waited there until dawn came around when I knew the
chaos would then be order and it would be safe for me to
leave. My next stop, my next victim, unknown.