The knife in my hand comes down, and there’s a brief moment of delicious resistance as it pierces the skin.
And blood, beautiful ruby blood blossoms from him as he screams.
His voice is like an angel's serenade, a symphony of pain and fear that makes my heart sing in my chest, because I know I’m the reason he’s screaming, I’m the only one on his mind.
I pull the knife down, down, cutting him open just a little more, the fountain of red proclaiming my mark, my claim, my love.