Gripping the knife tighter, I approached her. I raised the blade again, this time aiming for her legs.
The moment the blade made contact, a scream tore through the air before she fainted from the sheer agony.
One minute. That’s all it took to sever her legs completely.
Blood sprayed violently, painting the walls in grotesque crimson streaks, a chaotic masterpiece of vengeance.
I stood amidst the carnage, the sound of my own ragged breathing filling the room. But it wasn’t enough.
Hatred burned hotter, urging me forward.
I slashed her face twice, the knife carving deep, jagged wounds. Her once-pristine skin peeled back, revealing raw flesh beneath. The satisfaction was fleeting, but it dulled the edge of my fury.
The tip of the knife hovered at her chest. Slowly, it slid downward.
The thought of cutting open her heart pulsed through me, growing stronger with every passing second.
But just as I was about to surrender entirely to the darkness, a sound pierced through the haze of my rage—the faint cry of my daughter from the other room.
Reality crashed back, like a wave dousing a roaring flame.