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I Thought I Knew

As I walked down the street, I could hardly have wiped the grin off my face. I’d had trouble resisting a smile under any circumstances lately, to be honest. I suppose this is what happens when you’re in love – particularly the type that has every bit been returned. I had to resist the urge to skip like I was 8 years old again as I thought about the beautiful date we’d had the other night.

It had been a lovely night. He took me to a romantic candle-lit restaurant. It had served the best food I had ever tasted, but I was too captivated by his intriguing wit and sparkling blue eyes to notice most of the cuisine. I had fallen in love with many men – too many – but he was one of the few that loved me back. He was the only one, in fact, that had ever made me as happy as I was now.

It was getting dark out as I walked down the street, the street lights beginning to flicker on. I quickened my pace, hoping to be home before night completely fell. The stretch of road I was on was deserted completely – except for one man. I glanced at him as he ventured into an alleyway, wondering vaguely why he was out that late. And then I did a double take. It was him – the man who had returned my love and given light to my life and soul. I smiled and almost began to start over, ready to surprise him from behind as lovers did and ask what he was doing out and about at this late hour. But then he turned to look behind him. I saw his face, and stopped dead.

He had a look in his eyes that I had never witnessed in him before – or anyone. It was…dark. There was a sort of hunger in those eyes. I’d never seen that hunger before, but I knew what it was: bloodthirst.

I quickly dashed behind the corner of the alleyway he was in, praying he hadn’t seen me. For once, I was grateful for the darkness and shadows. I couldn’t resist, however, peeking around the corner at what was happening. I didn’t think he’d seen me, but I pulled out my phone and rested my thumb on speed dial for 911 – just in case.

There was another man in the alleyway, taller but much thinner. My lover (was he still thus?) was glaring at him with that hunger – that bloodthirst. He raised his clenched fist and my eyes widened in horror, for in it he held a slim, silver dagger.

I watched as the horrifying scene unfolded before me. The man I thought I knew knocked the other man down to the ground and, without hesitation, plunged the dagger into his chest. Bloodcurdling screams from them both rang through the air, mixing together the horrible passion of the murderer with the agony of the murderered. The blade raised from the wound, dripping with blood, and then drove back in. Again and again the murderer stabbed the man, hacking away at the chest. Blood was splattered everywhere until it drenched the two and began drying to a gruesome black crust. Bits of gore flew into the face of the stabbing man and plastered against the wall of the alley. The thin man had long since ceased his screams, but his body still lurched with the force of the driving blade. The sound of splintering bones cracked through the air as the dagger thrust through rib and breastbone with sickening crunches. I watched, crouched behind my corner, paralyzed, unable to look away from the bloody murder happening right before my eyes.

Finally, I regained enough sense to do the only thing I possibly could. I drew my phone to my ear, called the police, and quietly revealed to them the location and description of the horrible criminal I had once loved. I then walked away shakily, knowing that what I had seen and felt could never be erased from my heart.




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