- Wanna go for a walk?

- Nah. It's a little bit too rainy day for me.

- Then, maybe some coffee?

- No, thanks. I'm not hungry yet.

She sits on a sofa reading a book, surrounded by piles of silky pillows and her well-known cats. Those more remind wolves to me.

She's a cat, wild and black. She's the only thing I want to have. And I have wanted for three years already. She reminds me of someone I have forgotten for long ago, someone I had barely known. Aww, yeah. My subconscience plays tricks with me.

Suddenly she slams her book.

- The sea. I want a walk by the sea.

She looks at me victoriously. She knows I hate sea. She perfectly knows I'm afraid of wide water. Well, if I refuse, she will leave alone. I don't want to stay here, eye by eye with my thoughts, dramas, tears, suicide scars. She gets up from the sofa, lazily stretches her hands up to the air, then leaves the room to put on something suitable for today's weather. I like rain, I can't feel any cold watching those gorgeous transparent drips to fall on the ground and break onto glass-like splinters. I don't feel cold walking by her. Perhaps only when she looks into my eyes.

Me and my soulless bitch - not enough to be called "us" - enter the rainy gloaming, and I enjoy every fucking breath I make. She complains on the mist jokingly and opens her violet umberella. So hot, so elegant. So fucking irritable.

There's nobody on the coast. We've got there by a tram, full of people, wet and angry. She hasn't dropped a word since we left the house, as same as me. She was too drawn in her thoughts. I was too afraid to break the promenade.

She takes out a parcel from her hand-bag as she stops. Then she looks at me.

- Did you find any job for Jim?

I grin cynically and start a cigarette. Yeah, I was wondering if she would asked. She did.

- Why would I?

I never really liked Jim, her brother. I felt too alone sharing a room with him, so noisy, so messy, so alcoholic. What for her - she liked him even more than me. Maybe too much. I won't torment myself with thinkin of his true brotherly love, and her white sexy body in his brotherly loving hands. Or I'll get too nasty.

- Have you forgotten? - she forgets about the sea that she wanted to see so much and stares angrily at me. - I asked you, DARLING.

The last word sounds like a slap. It would be better if she said "cheapy". I keep being silent, watching clouds of a fog that leave my lungs slowly.

- I spare my time with you, - she adds, her right hand dives into the hand-bag again in search of her slim dark coloured cigarettes. Then clicks the lighter. - I think I'm going to leave your flat.

A weak wind brings the smell of her perfume. It is unique. My whole house - my floor, my kitchen, my shower, my pillows, my bedsheets - will keep this smell forever. Well, until my death definitely.

She says something, and more and more of this something, overflowing a bowl of my patience. I'm tired of this. It's time to place the end here. I take my true penknife from the pocket of my jeans. I approach her back, she smokes and looks at the surf emptily. I hug her with my left arm, and, before she gets to notice it, touch her neck with the edge of the knife, as sharp as hell. I've sharpened it every day since realizing that she doesn't belong to me, awaithing her to talk about leaving my house. Blood from her carotids flows on the left sleeve of my leather coat. She turns to me her face with surprised expression as she moans lightly and puts her hand on my left forearm. I don't let her go, feeling the smell of her blood - just like cherry jam to me.

- It was too predictable, darling, - I say, having drawn near her ear and leaving a kiss on her beautiful nape. - Now it's quite banal, I think. You know, I never liked your brother.

She rattles quietly as she tries to free herself from my embraces, which get rougher and rougher irrespective of me.

- Now tell me... - I interrupt myself with nervous short laughing which appears to be more like mad dog's barking than the sound made by human. Fuck it. I'm not a human. - Your Jim, he fucked you, didn't he?

I chat for a little more as she slides for her agony. When it starts, I get silent. I don't allow her to die elegantly, as all that she has done. I don't tell her the cause of her sudden death. I rape her bleeding snow-white body as she coughs loudly in agonal spasmes. She dies when I cum. Now that's nasty. I leave the body on a coast. I don't care about my future, about anything that seemed to make sense for me. I just feel as I wanted to - clean and simple, joyful and free. Now I can breathe lightly.