Pain. Utter searing gut wrenching pangs. They always started slow. Creeping quietly up from the pit of his stomach, then spreading to his intestines, his kidneys, his bladder. It was like he had been running for hours and had gotten a stitch in his side that spread to his entire lower torso…
And there was only one way to make it stop. He had tried to go back in his mind to remember how he had discovered the singular cure for his agony. This cure was his joy. The way their flesh felt taught and warm under his white gloves, their life seeping through the cloth. Once he strangled them he would tear into their flesh with his knife, which doubled as a juggling prop. Each cut into their skin would bring him relief. Their blood was like a salve that spread out over the irritated lining of his stomach. The relief he felt at these moments, the happiness, was unlike any he could ever remember. When he wasn’t experiencing this, the ache would force him to double over, or lay on the filthy tiles of his bathroom, just as he was at this moment. He had to get up. He had to go out and find his antidote. A new victim; a new found moment of peace.
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