I was nervous. Very nervous. This was my first time doing something like this and there was an uncertainty within me.

My breath came in short, hard bursts. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest like an animal trapped in a cage pushing at the bars. My hands were sweaty and shaky. My eyes were unfocused and my vision hazy. My mind was racing; occupied by a single train of thought.

Should I do it?

Not could I, but should I?

I knew I could do it. I wanted to do it; I had craved it for so long. My thoughts had been of nothing else in the weeks leading up to this.

I had been careful and planned it all in advance. There were no loose ends, no witnesses; the warehouse was part of a district that had been abandoned years ago. No one else was around for a few miles, especially at this time of night; except of course the woman who was currently tied to the chair in front of me.

Even as bedraggled as she was, she looked beautiful. The makeup around her dark eyes smudged, not with tears but the same sweat that held her black velvety hair to her face. Her eyes were alive and full of anger and hate, even though her body was tired. The most exotically sensual vision of strength and beauty I had seen in a long time. It would be a shame, even a sin to destroy something so beautiful.

But it was her beauty that I had chosen her for. Such beauty and power was exactly what made her perfect. I did not know if I would another so suitable, so fitting. A work of power required a subject with strength.

But what if she was not right? What if there was someone more suited to such a work of art, a setting more fitting.

The more I thought about it, the more confused I was. I ran my hands through my hair. There was only one way to be certain, I thought, as my hand moved down; slowly drifting from the back of my neck, over my torso, moving lower. My other hand moved gently through her hair, the dark locks soft and wet between my fingers. Every sensation was heightened, every sense sharpened. My entire was body tingling in anticipation.

As my hand neared the waist of my trousers, closer to its destination, I slowly pushed her head back; looking into the burning embers of her eyes. My mouth felt dry as my breathing became slower, deeper.

I saw realization in her eyes; realization that the time had come and that nothing would stop it from happening. But there was also a certain pride that she had not succumbed to her fear, not screamed for help or mercy, that she had fought her best to stop me. It brought a certain joy to see this.

I had chosen well indeed.

I felt my hand reach my instrument, my tool; felt its length and its hardness. I gulped and gently bit my lower lip. It felt reassuring, calming to hold it in my hand. The doubts faded, my thoughts cleared. And I knew. Knew what I should do. What I had to do. An artist cannot hesitate, cannot falter in his vision.

Slowly, gently I released it from its bindings. My grip was firm but gentle. My fingers caressing it. It felt right, ready.

I eased the tip into her mouth; past her soft, luscious lips. She was accepting her fate. My breath shuddered and caught in my throat at the excitement that I felt.

I gazed into her eyes; still defiant, still burning. Even in her final moments she would not break. She truly was the perfect subject for my first work.

My heart raced. My breathing was fast and deep. All thought fading from my mind. We both closed our eyes as I slowly squeezed back on the trigger.

The sound of gunfire seemed to come from far off as my mind went blank; my breath stopped for a moment that seemed to last an eternity.

A moment of pure ecstasy.

All I saw was a bright light as the back of her head flew open like a dam exploding; chunks of blood, bone and brain flew out like a flock of birds in the evening sun, before splattering on the wall, a moment captured eternally in my mind.

A few flecks of blood fell on my face. I could feel them there; their warmth as I slowly returned to my senses. My breathing returned to normal. Tentatively I licked a drop near my lips. The salty, metallic taste was refreshing and calming.

I slowly opened my eyes and removed my gun from her mouth, holstering it. I saw the pattern on the wall and smiled.

It was perfect. A perfect beginning.

I gently untied her. My work was not yet complete. It still needed a big finale. I started thinking of the possibilities as I carried her corpse out with me.

Originally posted on The Pyscho Wordsmith