I never felt sin until I killed him. I never felt sin until I slit his throat. I never felt true sin until I felt the blood flow through my fingers. I’d never felt anything like it before and it felt almost electric, making me want more. More red. Red everywhere.

"How does it feel?" Jerome asked me, his breath hot on the back of my neck.

It felt liberating, it felt exhilarating. These of course were things I couldn't tell Jerome. He was why I did this, he was why I stood over a man, blood drenching through my white button down. He was how all of this began.

"Who are you?" I remembered him whispering to me the night we lay in the warehouse. His arms were wrapped around me and we stared at the stars through the hole in the roof of the abandoned factory. In the sky hung a red moon; a Blood Moon.

"You're being silly, Jerome. You know who I am," I remembered laughing to him.

But he didn't laugh.

His arms tightened around my small form, almost painfully. "No, but who are you really? It's the hardest question to answer. It takes a life time to answer, Ray."

Then why did you ask me? I thought.

"What's your point with all of this?"

"I know you wonder why I killed those people. I know you wonder who I am frequently, and it hurts, but I do understand. I just want you to understand."

The air was suddenly tense and the concrete ground was now all too rough. "Understand what, Jerome?"

"I want you to understand why I do it, I want you to understand why I kill. I want you to understand how I feel when I kill." 

Sitting all the way up now, I stared at him in horror. “Are you suggesting that I kill someone, Jerome, is that what you want? Because I won’t have it, I can leave right now. I can and I will.”

He sat up quickly, putting a rough scarred hand to my face, stroking it softly. As much as I’d love to pull away and tell him I was done, I knew I wouldn’t.

“No, no, dear, I’d never ask you to do something like that.”

A shaky breath left me and I smiled. “Good, I’m glad that-“

“Ah ah ah,” Jerome stopped me. “I said I wouldn’t ask you to. I never said I didn’t want you to.”

Slapping his hand away, I started to stand up. “I can’t believe you! I can’t believe how ridiculous you are.”

Jerome’s hand was then roughly on mine and I knew that his personality was beginning to change. This was the time of the night when he’d snap. “Sit the hell down and listen to me,” he growled.

I slowly took a seat back next to him and as I looked back up at the sky, the blood color of the moon was even more vibrant; it was almost threatening, but not more threatening than the man next to me.

“You’re scaring me,” I whispered softly. I knew that Jerome fed on fear, but maybe if he heard it from me, he’d be a little patient.

I was wrong. Horribly wrong.

The smile on Jerome’s face grew wider and his grip on my arm tightened, making me let out a pained squeak. “I should scare you, little bird. I’m meant to strike fear, even into the ones I love, especially into the ones I love.”

His cold fingers loosened and his other hand went to touch my porcelain cheek. “Don’t worry, you feel bad at first, but then you feel numb.”

I hesitantly lifted my pale hand to meet his that held my head. “I can’t do things like that, I’m not like you.”

“Then why are you with me?”

I searched his eyes, searching for a specific answer. “Because opposites attract?”

A belly laugh left Jerome’s lips and his hands disappeared from my skin, leaving a burning feeling. He stood from the ground and dusted off his jeans. “Wrong, dear, wrong. No couples are ever complete opposites, some are just too stubborn to show how identical their personalities really are.” In one swift motion, he was kneeled in front of me, my face clenched in his hand stingingly. “You’re with me because you know that deep down in your black soul, we’re exactly alike.”

So I finally gave in to his pleadings. I shouldn’t have; but I was weak. I couldn’t say no to his greedy green eyes.

That’s how I ended up standing over a bloody and beaten body, with me being the cause of death.

“How does it feel?” Jerome repeated, his voice becoming more impatient.

I stood up and away from the body, the knife slipping from my hand. Metal clanged against the concrete floor of that same warehouse we were in just nights before. “I want to go home, Jerome. I feel horrible.”

Dark laughter erupted from behind me, making me flinch. Slender fingers wrapped around my arms and my back was pulled to his firm chest.

“You’re lying.”

Cringing, I tried to pull away. I knew he was right, but killing was wrong. This was wrong. So how come now that I had done it, I wanted to do it again?

I shoved away from Jerome and turned to look at him. His eyes were wild and his hair was in its usual scattered mess. “I said I want to go home.”

Shaking his head, he walked toward me. “You’re lying to yourself, Ray, this isn’t something you can fake and make afterwards. You killed someone and you liked it.”

“You’re wrong!”

“I’m right and you know it. This is one thing that can’t be undone.”

I picked the knife off of the ground and in one quick motion plunged it into Jerome’s stomach. Blood splattered over my hands and as soon as I felt it, I gasped. Jerome fell to the ground, the knife still inside of him. My movements were surprising to even me.

I scurried down to his side, tears running down my face. ”I’m sorry, I can fix this. I didn’t mean to!”

Looking down at his stomach, there were more swipes and stabs than I had thought. When did I do this? No, it couldn’t have been me, it wasn’t me!

More crimson splattered onto me as Jerome laughed. The man was dying and he was laughing.

His hand covered mine that lay on his stomach, trying to stop the blood. “That’s my girl. That’s my sweet little dove.”

More glass tears fell down my face as I watched him slip away right in front of me. I sat for hours, until his body was cold.

I had made him proud, I made Jerome proud even if it ended in his own death.

I then glanced at the bloody knife next to me.

I’d make him proud again.

I would.